The House of Ill Repute
by ficlit78
Summary: COMPLETE. It's Halloween and the boys want to know what Grace is up to. A bit of friendly stalking isn't a big deal, right? Little does Jane know that following her will lead him to a kindred spirit. Total smutty Grigby, smutty Jane/OC and Cho/OC.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Where does Grace go every night after work? Why is she so secretive? Why do she and Rigsby still have their pants on? As usual, I own nothing.

**Chapter One- The Russian  
**

There was nothing particularly interesting going on that bright and chilly October morning in the CBI bullpen. Nothing interesting, that was, until the Russian showed up. A dark, thirty-something, well-toned and incredibly handsome man stepped off the elevator and into the hallway. He was six feet tall with a square jaw, bronze, short curly hair and stunning facial features. He was dressed in a simple black tee shirt, a black biker's jacket and dark blue jeans, which all clung to a body alive with dense musculature. He carried a large briefcase that opened from the top in his right hand. His posture betrayed absolute confidence as he lazily took in his surroundings, slowly casting his gaze up one corridor and down the other. Rigsby saw him from the kitchen and instantly disliked him. Too cool and cocky, too handsome. Rigsby walked out into the hallway and came to a stop in front of him. "Can I help you?" he asked stonily.

The man turned to him and smiled serenely. When he spoke his words clipped charmingly with a thick Russian accent. "Please. I am looking for Agent Van Pelt. Do you know where I might find her?"

Rigsby, already disliking this man for his looks, instantly hated him for asking for Grace. He drew up to his full height, hoping it made him look imposing. "This way," he replied coldly. Rigsby led the Russian to Grace's desk where she sat engrossed in a case file. "Grace, someone to see you," Rigsby informed her, switching from one foot to the other. Part of him hoped she'd look up, take one look at this guy, and promptly ask Rigsby to throw him out on the street. No such luck. Grace looked up from her desk and a mixture of recognition, surprise and pleasure crossed her face. "Thanks, Rigsby. Liev! What on earth are you doing--," but she was cut off as Liev moved with lightening speed and bent down to her eye level, pressing a finger to his lips as his eyes twinkled playfully. "Shhhhh," he uttered quietly.

Grace smiled. Rigsby scowled. What the hell was this clown up to anyway? But Grace seemed almost giddy as her smile grew wider and she bit her lips in silent compliance. She kept her mouth pressed shut as Liev stood up and slowly reached into his jacket. He produced a dark purple piece of paper and handed it to her. She took it from him and read it silently. Her eyes glittered with mischief and when she looked back to Liev she gave him a conspiratorial nod. He nodded in return and instantly set down his case on the floor, flipping open and pulling a black travel sleeve used to carry suits. Liev draped it across his arms and offered it to Grace with the same reverence as if he were handing her the shroud of Turin. She accepted it with mock seriousness, bowing her head as if highly honored to be given such a precious gift. She stood up and hung the sleeve on the peg near her desk, turning back to Liev and trying desperately to suppress a giggle. Liev, still silent and barely concealing a wicked smiled behind his somber expression, took Grace's hand and kissed it as he bowed deeply at the waist, looking up at her wolfishly through dark brown eyes and sooty lashes. Grace couldn't help it, she giggled.

By this time, their little silent exchange has garnered quite a bit of interest. Rigsby hadn't moved a muscle as he watched their little tête-à-tête with growing anger and jealousy. When Liev kissed her hand and gave her that look, it took all of Rigsby's strength not to break his jaw. Lisbon's curiosity was also piqued and she moved to her doorframe, leaning against it and watching her youngest agent with quiet amusement. Jane had watched unabashedly from his couch where he lay sprawled and got a ringside view of the whole event. His own curiosity was aroused, as this seemed quite odd for the normally straight-laced Van Pelt to behave so playfully. Cho had no interest whatsoever until he happened to look up and saw the purple piece of paper in Grace's hand. Suddenly he froze and a look of absolute shock and envy came over his face.

Finally, the handsome Russian released her hand and stood up, grabbing his case and snapping it shut again. He turned without saying a word and walked briskly out of the office, leaving a smiling Grace, a glowering Rigsby, and a very bemused CBI team. Lisbon spoke up from the corner. "What was all that about, Van Pelt?" Grace's gaze snapped to her boss. Apparently she hadn't even been aware of everyone's attention. Another odd occurrence, for Grace was always hyper-aware of other people's attention on her as it usually embarrassed her to no end. Color rose to her cheeks and she looked down at her desk. "Nothing, boss. Just a friend."

Cho was still staring at her with a newfound respect and awe. She saw his expression and her eyes turned pleading. "Don't, Cho. Please?" Lisbon, Jane and Rigsby all turned to Cho and realized he knew what had just transpired. Jane leapt at him. "So what gives? What just happened here that's got Grace so excited and you so jealous? Com'on, Cho. Ya know ya wanna."

"No!" Grace cried out. The other agents looked at her in surprise, which she seemed to be full of today. "Please, please don't tell. They'll kill me if they find out that—,"

"Grace has been invited to the Alleged Halloween Party," Cho interrupted matter-of-factly.

"Dammit, you!" she hit her desk in anger. Confusion crossed the faces of the other three. "The what?" asked Rigsby.

"Yeah, the what? It's just a party then?" asked Lisbon.

Cho looked at them with disgust, as if pearls had just been thrown before swine. "It's not a party. It's _the _party. The hottest party on the coast, if rumors are to be believed. But the guess list is exclusive and the party is top secret. Even movie stars have asked to be invited with no luck. And no one outside of the guests is allowed to even know where it is. Some say it doesn't actually exist and it's just an urban legend, hence the name. How the hell did you get on the list, Van Pelt? You're not exactly Sandra Bullock."

Grace glared at Cho like she wanted to bludgeon him to death. But with everyone staring expectantly at her, she chose to forego the killing and just clammed up. "I don't know what you're talking about. Don't we have a case or something?" she went back to her case file on her desk, gluing her eyes to its dry content and refusing to look up as the other four prodded her with questions. Lisbon wanted to know who threw this supposedly amazing party. Jane wheedled her about the location. Rigsby just wanted to know who Liev was. She bit her lips again in clear defiance of their questions and kept doggedly reading her file. She was feeling quite hopeful and proud now, she was fighting them off. Soon they'd lose interest and find something else to focus on. Only after Jane had made a seemingly harmless pass around her desk did she realize she was horribly wrong. She saw him wander back to his couch, and then nonchalantly produced her purple piece of paper from his sleeve. She leapt from her desk and went to snatch it from Jane's hands, but Rigsby caught her midair and locked his arms through hers, holding her against him as she struggled like a spitting tomcat. "Jane! Give that back or I'll kill you! No one else is allowed to know!" Grace cried out in annoyance as she fought against Rigsby's hold. But it was no use. Fighting against Rigsby was like fighting a Chinese finger trap. The harder she struggled, the tighter and more impossible his grip became. Soon her back was held flush against his chest and despite herself, her anger began to flag. True, she couldn't escape, but it was also true that she was starting not to want to. His hold was comforting as he expertly kept her from moving, but also made sure he wasn't hurting her. His chest was warm against her back and she could smell the light scent of his aftershave, and if she moved her head back just a tiny bit, it would rest against the hollow of his throat. She felt…safe. She shook herself. She'd fight verbally then, if strength was no longer an option. She yelled threats at Jane as he casually read her invitation.

Jane found the whole scene thoroughly amusing. Grace looked fit to be tied, and he was pretty sure that, given different circumstances, both Rigsby and Grace might be open to the idea. Instead he watched happily as the young redhead thrashed in the big man's arms as she tried to get to him. He lazily read the paper in his hand and instantly wondered why she was getting so upset.

Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby were all yelling at him to read it out loud. The commotion was ridiculous and Jane laughed, mentally likening the sound to a chicken coop. "Silence!" he roared, and the room went quiet as everyone looked at him expectantly. Grace had given up fighting and just stood placidly with her arms trapped on either side while Rigsby continued to hold her against him. Jane tossed the invitation to Cho, who read it briefly, then passed it to Lisbon.

"What's it say?" asked Rigsby, telling himself that he still needed to hold Grace, just in case she went for the paper again. Not that it mattered now, since they'd all seen it. But still. Lisbon walked over and held it up to him to read.

**_Grace Marie Van Pelt_**

_The Time Has Come Once Again._

_9:00PM_

_You know where._

Rigsby felt Grace slump completely against him, defeated. Her head dropped back against his throat and he inwardly purred at the softness of her hair against his skin. Oh, the things he wanted to do to this woman. Grace Marie (he hadn't known her middle name before and instantly loved it) Van Pelt. His hands itched to pull out of his arm lock and glide over every single inch of her.

"Let me go, Rigsby," she said dejectedly. He instantly released her, not getting why she fought so hard in the first place. "What's the big deal, Van Pelt? It doesn't tell us anything," he asked.

Grace walked back to her desk and sat heavily down in her chair as she buried her face in her hands. "Of course it doesn't tell you anything! They'd never risk writing anything important down. The point is that no one's supposed to know but me! And five minutes after I get my invite, four other people now know. How could you do that to--,"

"What's in the suit sleeve?" interrupted Jane, looking at it idly from the couch. Grace moved with preternatural speed and ripped the sleeve from the peg on the wall, hugging it to her chest like it was her firstborn child. "No! You are not looking! I'm taking it to my car and locking it up. Rigsby! If you follow me or try to stop me I will seriously taser you."

The four agents watched her run down the hall to the elevator before turning to look at each other. Lisbon spoke up. "Okay, boys. Tormenting Grace is now over, go back to whatever it was you were doing," she ordered as she disappeared back into her office.

The three men were left alone and Jane looked up expectantly at them from his couch. "So we're following her on Halloween night, right?" he asked.

"Totally,"

"Hell, yes," Rigsby and Cho answered simultaneously.

"Excellent," Jane said as he burrowed deeper into his couch and laid his head back for a nap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two- Carrie**

The team didn't mention the party again to Grace for the entire week leading up to Halloween. Lisbon genuinely lost interest and the boys were hoping to lull her into a false sense of security. They went about their jobs as if they'd forgotten all about it and Grace seemed pleased to have been let off the hook. So on October 31st she suspected nothing when she pulled out of the car park and completely missed the black SUV that pulled out a few moments after her. Rigsby drove, keeping a safe distance as Grace made her way to her apartment through the evening traffic. The boys parked across the street as Grace climbed the steps to her apartment building, practically skipping with excitement. They figured that they were in for a wait since Grace was a girl, a girl going to _the_ party of the season, and would thus take a ridiculous amount of time to get ready. So they'd barely gotten into their impromptu poker game when Grace stepped out just 45 minutes later. Jane was the first to see her and let out a low whistle. Rigsby and Cho turned to look out the window and Rigsby felt his heart stop in his chest. Even Cho grunted in appreciation.

Grace was turned to her door, locking it up before she headed down the stairs. She was dressed in a long silk dress with spaghetti straps, paper-thin and gently hugging her curves before it tumbled down her legs to her ankles. It's soft pink shade set off her pale skin and long red hair, which she wore loose and in waves down her back. Loose, save for a small sparkling tiara crowning her head. The dress was cut low in the back, giving the boys a full view of her graceful shoulders and slender frame as she threw her keys into her purse and turned towards them. They all gasped in unison as she faced them. Grace, sweet, lovely Grace Van Pelt, was covered from throat to thighs in blood. The front of her hair hung in spattered dreads of red. Her dress was plastered to her body like she'd jumped in a pool. Her face was streaked with bloody rivulets that traced down her cheeks like tears. She looked as though she'd just been stabbed 30 times by a ruthless monster. Despite that, she still managed to look eerily beautiful. Rigsby grabbed the door handle and was preparing the rip the door off its hinges to get to her, but Jane grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. "She's fine, big man. It's just her costume," his gestured to her again. "Look, see?" he watched Rigby's face work desperately through the fear to try and see her properly.

He smiled at him. "She's Carrie."

Grace descended the steps in her elegant heels and trotted across the parking lot to her car, every bit as excited and just as unharmed as when she first entered it. Her tiara sparkled in the lamppost light as she walked. Rigsby let out a slow breath. Jane, still holding his shoulder, shook it gently. "Let's go, man. Let's follow little Carrie to the prom."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three- Poison Ivy**

"Let's go, man. Let's follow little Carrie to the prom."

Rigsby nodded silently, still shaken from his adrenaline spike of fear, put the SUV into gear and followed Grace's car into the night.

They didn't go far. They followed her to a dark, slightly gothic part of town known jokingly to the locals as the French Quarter. There was nothing remotely French about it, but it was considered to have a lazy sensuality that people likened to New Orleans. Darkened coffee houses with smoky interiors, couples wandering off to do all sorts of acts in its many side alleys, red lights glowing from empty windows, and all of this when it wasn't even Halloween. Tonight the French Quarter was looking especially ethereal. Colored lights hung from every pane. People in costumes moved quietly, discreetly to their destinations, which struck a noticeable difference to the rest of the city that night, which heaved with rowdy drunk partygoers screeching and laughing from booze and silliness. Those in the French Quarter skulked like people with secrets. Well-kept secrets.

The boys parked two blocks away from Grace as she got out of her car and slammed the door. She was about the cross the street, but stopped suddenly. She looked pointedly down each side of the street, as if looking for something. She stared a long time in the direction of their SUV, not seeing it in the dark, but sensing she was being followed. Being watched. She blood-soaked face watched for about three minutes before slowly turning and crossing the street. She walked up to a seemingly dark and abandoned old Victorian building. It was large, imposing, and devoid of any outward signs of life. She knocked softly on the door. They couldn't see too well from their vantage point, but they saw the door open and Grace smiled in recognition of whoever stood on the other side. Two long, slender feminine arms clad in green slid through the frame and brought Grace into an intimate hug before escorting her in and shutting the door behind them.

Rigsby wrinkled his brow. "What the hell is going on? What is this place? It looks derelict." Cho glanced at him like he was an idiot. "Grace is going up in my book by the minute. The place that just welcomed her with open arms is the House of Ill Repute," he informed them dryly.

Jane and Rigsby looked at him with exasperated glances, telling him to either elaborate or shut the hell up. He sighed. "The House of Ill Repute is a burlesque house. Very fancy, very discreet. No advertising, no signs, just a short list of classy clientele and a sterling reputation. Their shows rival anything you'd see in London or Paris."

Jane smirked. "Big fan, ay Cho?"

Cho didn't react. "Couldn't afford the cover even if they let me in the door, which they wouldn't. This isn't just some skin joint, guys. They've got dancers in there with training and muscles and flexibility like you've never seen in your life."

Jane smirked again. "And Grace knows them, huh?" He watched for his desired reaction and got it. Rigsby blushed crimson at the thought of Grace's flexibility. He chuckled and opened his door. "Well, we aren't going to get any info sitting across the street. Let's go." Rigsby and Cho followed him quickly, slamming their doors and trotting up next to him. "Man, you can't just walk up to the House and knock on the door," Cho said.

"Sure I can. Why not? We're with the CBI and you guys have badges and guns and look very imposing. They'll let us in, just let me talk." He patted Cho's arm reassuringly. He jaunted up the steps and knocked causally on the same door Grace had entered. After a moment the door opened and a stunningly beautiful Asian woman stood before them. She wore a dazzling skin-tight suit made entirely of green leaves and vines that circled her arms, torso and legs. Her skin was visible in blushingly private places, but expertly covered in various shades of green paint. Her hair was dyed cherry red and her face was painted entirely with exotic flowers. Jane smiled. Poison Ivy. She smiled with the same serene, lazy smile that Liev wore when visiting Grace. She slowly took in their faces and no-nonsense suits before settling her eyes on Jane. "You gentlemen must be lost. Can I help you find your destination?" she asked quietly. Jane instantly noticed that absolutely no sound came from the dark and empty space behind her. No tell-tale thumping of a dance beat, no din of talking crowds, nothing. Eerie silence. He gave his best smile, and falling back on one of his many standbys, Jane took the lady by the hand and moved into her personal space. "This is exactly where we want to be. My name is Patrick Jane and these are Agents Cho and Rigsby of the CBI. We'd like to speak with the organizer," he said smoothly. Poison Ivy gazed at him placidly and Jane was a bit thrown that his closeness and physical contact with her seemed to have no affect whatsoever. She didn't flinch, blush or back away. She didn't remove his hand, but nor did she indicate that his touching her was inappropriate. In short, she didn't react at all. She merely continued to look him in the eye with the same calmness as if she were watching a goldfish bowl. "I'm sorry, gentlemen. I can't help you," she replied as she went to close the door on them. Rigsby launched himself up the last few steps to stand in front of her, dwarfing her with his formidable height. "Please, ma'am. It's about our colleague Grace Van Pelt. We know she's here. Can we see her please?"

To Rigsby's sincerity and mention of Grace's name, did Poison Ivy respond. She blinked at him for a moment, and slowly her smile softened. She continued to consider Rigsby for what felt like a long time before she nodded slightly. "Please come with me." Somewhere deep in Jane's mind a spark of jealousy flared. It bothered him a teensy bit that his tried-and-true persuasions had failed where Rigsby's awkward honesty had succeeded. But he said nothing as the lady stepped to one side and let the three of them pass and closed the door behind them. The four stood in a pitch black entryway, lit by a solitary candle in a silver holder. Poison Ivy lifted the holder from its high table and turned back to them. Her eyes never left the trio as she called out softly, "Arianna?"

Another stunningly beautiful woman materialized from the darkness and walked up to Poison Ivy obediently. This woman had the agonizing allure of a Spanish gypsy. Raven hair, olive skin, almond eyes that glowed almost black in the dim light. She was dressed in an odd-looking—but strangely familiar--bikini made of twisting pieces of bronze colored metal. Her hair was tied up and adorned with similar pieces of material. She was collared and chained at the neck. Arianna saw their appreciative but perplexed glances and smiled as she gently prodded their memory. "Princess Leia, after being captured by Jaba the Hut."

Of course! Each of the men saw it perfectly now, they'd just been thrown by such a lovely figure emerging from the walls nearly naked.

Poison Ivy gently touched her shoulder. "Please mind the door. I'm taking these men to see Cherry." Arianna bowed her head in acknowledgement and assumed Ivy's place by the door. Poison Ivy turned back to the boys and gestured down a dark stairwell. "Please follow me."

The four descended down two flights of stairs. Jane immediately noticed that every single wall and ceiling they came across was covered in sound-proofing eggshell foam. No wonder no noise could be heard. These people really knew how to cover their bases. She led them through a bizarre and extensive network of corridors until coming to a large set of heavy black double doors at the end of the last hallway. She turned to Rigsby and smiled as she handed him the candlestick. He took it from her and smiled boyishly at her. Once again her smile softened into something akin to genuine affection for this big, unassuming man. Once again Jane flinched inwardly. Poison Ivy turned back to the door, grasped the large brass French handles, and pushed both doors open wide. The three men gasped sharply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four- Seven of Nine**

They walked out onto an indoor balcony with two massive curving staircases on either side. What lay before them on the floor below was the largest, most extravagant and cavernous ballroom any of them had ever seen. The room, like the rest of the building, was dark and dimly light by candles everywhere. Laser lights and dark-colored strobes were cast lazily and searchingly across the floor and walls. An enormous, blood red chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling. There was what looked like a water fountain near the stairs, flowing heavily with acid green liquid, what Jane assumed to be absinthe. And beneath them were about 200 beautiful, costumed guests. A live band sat on a large, elevated stage at the front, all dressed as ghoulish skeletons, and played a sexually-charged, fast-paced form of jazz. It was tribal, and heavy with drums. Flutes trilled like musical catcalls. Oboes and clarinets cooed enthrallingly, luring people to the dance floor. And my, oh my, did those people dance. It struck each man differently. Rigsby was instantly transported to the lyrics of Hotel California, the lyrics he'd always found beautiful and haunting, just like he found this scene before him of twisting, sliding bodies. Cho mentally likened them to pagans; savage, yet controlled worshippers grasping and holding each other intimately, firmly, moving as their gods and spirits ordered them to. Jane, by far the most calculating of them all, took in a different set of information. First, all of the guests seemed to be dancing with the exception of a few clusters of conversations, and all that danced did so with that lazy confidence and expert control that told him most of the people here were burlesque dancers or of a similar discipline. Each guest was immaculately dressed in a costume from a film or tv show and each costume appeared to be professionally made or bought at a dear price. No plastic masks or shapeless one-size-fits-all outfits in sight. The décor and general ambiance of the joint told him that whoever was in charge of this soiree had excellent taste and the money to back it up. In short, it was one hellava shindig to behold. Poison Ivy had had been standing silently to one side, allowing them to take in the splendor.

"Grace," Rigsby whispered, and Jane and Cho both saw a lovely redheaded girl in a long pink dress slowly make her way through the crowd. Jane looked just ahead of where she was aiming, trying to see if perhaps she'd spotted Liev, but when Grace finally found who she was looking for, Jane caught his breath. Grace had stopped in the center of the room next to an achingly beautiful and statuesque woman in a grey cat suit. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight twist and she appeared to have strange mechanical devices on her cheek, eyebrow and right hand. "Seven of Nine," Cho grunted approvingly. The woman was dancing with a handsome black man dressed as LeStat and hadn't yet seen Grace. She was turned to the side, so that Jane could only make out her lovely profile. Her movements with her dance partner were blushingly provocative, yet both moved with an almost clinical expertise, merely executing the steps of what to most people would be incredibly private mating behavior. They held each other firmly as they moved to a slow tango. She would slide down his entire body with her face inches from his torso, hip, leg. He'd pull her up by the arms, grabbing her right leg and lifting it clean over his shoulder, pushing her thigh against his chest and her other leg deep between his own. Their hands knew no boundaries and touched each other everywhere, and yet moved with such slow sensuality that it played out like love ritual and not raunchy club groping. Jane's mouth had gone dry. No wonder his normal tricks of touching Poison Ivy's hand hadn't worked, not if this was what they practiced on a daily basis.

When the couple executed their next turn, Seven of Nine saw Grace. Her posture changed instantly. She extracted herself from LeStat with a smile and launched herself at Grace, pulling her into a bear hug and both laughing heartily like little girls. She planted a kiss on Grace's cheek and cupped her hands around Grace's head, holding her and giggling as she looked over Grace's costume and smiled hugely into her eyes as they chattered away like teenagers. After a few moments of talking excitedly, Seven of Nine looked to one side and waved her hand over the crowd, beckoning someone over. Jane heard Rigsby growl low in his throat as Liev, dressed as Zorro, padded his way through the throng to the girls. Grace gave him a devastating smile as she pushed his hat back, took his masked face between her hands and planted a big yet chaste kiss on his lips. She talked excitedly, gesturing to her dress and flinging her arms around him in a huge hug. Liev laughed and returned her hug, swinging her around joyfully.

Jane felt Rigsby's shoulders slump without looking at him as Liev gallantly held out his hand in invitation and Grace happily accepted. He pulled her into a tango dance frame and began to move with her. The men watched in surprise. Grace moved with an elegance and silky confidence that none of them knew she had. Her movements were precise, graceful, and very provocative. When she held Liev and arched her body along with his, their eyes locked, staring each other down in a blatant battle for sexual dominance. He pulled one of her legs against his hip, sliding her dress up and running his hand up her bare calf and thigh. She gripped his shoulders, holding him tightly before plunging her fingers into his hair and bringing her lips within an inch of his, as if daring him to kiss her. It was all clearly an integral part of the dance, and yet it shocked all three of them. This was Grace, after all, not some lounge lizard sex kitten. Or was she?

Poison Ivy felt they'd seen enough and spoke up. "Kindly wait here. I'll fetch the 'organizer' for you." She said with an edge of sweet mocking. She disappeared down the right staircase and began to snake through the crowd. Jane turned to look at the other two. His heart broke at Rigsby's expression as the younger man continued to watch Grace dance. It was so raw with hurt and longing that Jane moved quickly to Cho. "So who do you think put this shebang on, anyway? Who in the crowd looks the type?"

Cho's stoic gaze moved through the various groups of people. "I'm looking for a Hefner type. Some old guy with a big cigar in one hand and some busty chick in the other. Why? Who do you think is behind it?"

Jane surveyed the crowd. "We're about to find out."

Poison Ivy reached the center of the dance floor, and to all of their surprise, gently laid her hand on Seven of Nine's shoulder. Jane's heart skipped. So the foxy borg is in charge. Figures.

Seven of Nine turned away from LeStat's embrace yet again and smiled at the interruption. Poison Ivy leaned into her shoulder and whispered into her ear. Seven of Nine's expression moved from pleasant surprise to mild amusement. Her eyes slowly lifted to the balcony as Poison Ivy continued to whisper to her. The boys instantly felt uncomfortable as she pinned them with what was becoming the patented serene smile at the House of Ill Repute. Poison Ivy backed away and Seven of Nine pressed her hands into her forearm as she conveyed her thanks. Seven quickly turned to LeStat and gave her excuses and moved towards the right staircase. It took awhile. Many people stopped her, hugged her, kissed her cheek and gushed wildly as they gesticulated around the room. She smiled warmly at each of them and thanked them for their compliments. When she finally ascended the stairs, the boys were positively fidgeting with nervousness. She stood before them in all of her shapely cat-suited glory and smiled at them like the girl next door. "Good evening, gentlemen. I understand that you're looking for me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five- The Cheshire Cat and a Baseball Bat**

Jane cleared his throat. Knowing the other two would be useless but still feeling a bit off his game, Jane stepped forward and offered his hand. "Patrick Jane, miss. We'd like to have a word with you, if we may." He wasn't sure why he said that. They only really came to see where Grace was going and what the big deal was. Talking to the head of the super-secret party hadn't been in the cards. Seven's arched her brow briefly but maintained her warm, amused smile as she shook his hand. "Please come this way. We'll be more comfortable in my office."

Still not sure what they'd just gotten themselves into, they followed Seven out of the heavy double doors and down the hall to a large office that reminded Jane of Sherlock Holmes' study. Heavy, dark furniture, row after row of dusty old books and Chesterfield sofas, which she gestured to as they entered. "Please sit. We'll certainly be able to hear each other better in here. Can I get any of you a drink? Or are you on duty?" She added that last part with a teasing tone that told Jane she knew damn well they weren't there on official duty. Cho answered her. "No, ma'am, we're fine. Thank you."

She nodded and poured herself a neat double scotch before sitting across from them and settling back, taking them in one at a time. Jane couldn't help feeling like they were canaries. Canaries in front of one beautiful Cheshire cat. She had the facial features that made men melt on the spot: a heart-shaped face, an adorable widow's peak, two sparkling dark brown eyes, a cupid's bow mouth, and an expression of sweet playfulness that suggested she was a delightful friend, a worthy adversary and a devastating lover. She seemed to be trying to work something out, before shaking her head with finality and taking a resolute breath. "Well, agents. What can I do for you?"

Rigsby moved to speak, but Jane cut him off. "We've been called out, miss. We've been asked to look into your party as part of an investigation."

She eyes sparkled with mirth as she took a sip of scotch. "Liar," she said softly. "And it's Cherry. Not Miss."

Jane cleared his throat. He'd been called out before and he was used to regrouping quickly, but something about this woman, her cool indifference and gentle enjoyment of the whole situation was new for him. He was a genius with other people's anger, guilt, uncertainty and fear. He realized he was facing down the worst possible opponent, a lovely female version of himself. He chose an injured smile from his arsenal.

"You cut me, Cherry."

She chuckled. "Forgive me, Patrick. I meant only to scratch."

She sat up a little straighter in her seat. "I'll get to the point for us, shall I?" She took another sip of her drink before setting it on the large coffee table in front of them. "The point is that we have a problem. I can honestly say that I was only expecting one of you. I assume the other two are wingmen, or have their own reasons for wanting to come. But there's only one way to find out," she paused briefly. "Tell me, which of you boys in my baby sister in love with?"

The three men looked at each other quizzically, before turning back to her. She arched her brow. "Grace? Which of you is Grace in love with?"

Cho and Jane simultaneously pointed to Rigsby, who looked around wildly in confusion. Cherry's smile went from sweet to dazzling as she looked at Rigsby. "Then you must be Wayne," she said warmly. Rigsby looked like a cornered and bemused animal. "No. I mean, yes ma'am. I am Wayne, but Grace isn't in love with me, I--,"

"You're Grace's sister?" Cho interrupted. "I thought all of her family lived back east in Ohio."

"Iowa," Cherry corrected. "and most of them do. I moved out here years ago for my dancing career and opened this place. When Grace decided to become an agent, she chose California so we could be near each other."

"Why do you think Grace is in love with Rigsby?" asked Jane. Cherry laughed heartily at the question. It was an uncalculated and genuine sound, as if his question was beyond ridiculous. "Because my sister couldn't hide such a thing from me if she tried. When she first started at CBI, she was constantly talking about all of you. Grace always comes to the house after work to hang out with us, and to dance, if she's in the mood. At first she regaled us with stories about Agents Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby and of course the enigmatic Jane. But over the last few months I noticed that she mentioned Agent Rigsby less and less. She seemed to deliberately avoid any stories including him. When I asked about it, she'd blush and deflect my questions. For Grace, that can only mean one thing; she's in love and doesn't want to be. This intrigued me, so I started prodding her. Was he single? Was he cute? Was he a good man? A good agent? Did he make her laugh? She answered positively to all of the questions, so I couldn't figure out why she was fighting her feelings so hard."

Rigsby looked at her uncertainly, still baffled by these revelations. "CBI protocol states that unit members aren't allowed to become involved romantically."

Cherry's expression smoothed into understanding and immediate sympathy. "I see," she said quietly.

"She's fighting her feelings for another reason, isn't she?" asked Jane pointedly. Cherry's gaze snapped to his face, her eyes hardening. "Has she mentioned something to you?" she asked. Jane noticed the defensiveness building up in her, the anger heating up in her eyes. Well, at least that proved it was possible to get to her.

He kept his eyes and face lax. "No, nothing. But I sense that she's been through something traumatic. Something that would keep her from trusting men, even good men like Rigsby."

Rigsby hated this entire conversation and felt embarrassingly exposed by it. He knew Grace didn't love him. Right now she was downstairs in the arms of the man she cared for and it wasn't him. But the mention of some traumatic event in Grace's life, something having to do with a man, glued his attention to Jane and Cherry and made his heart constrict with fear. He looked at Cherry, silently begging her to tell him what happened.

Cherry's gaze moved from Jane to Rigsby. She saw his fear for her sister and his anger slowly welling up with those sweet blue eyes. She sympathized. Oh yes, she did.

"What I'm going to tell you stays in this room, gentlemen. Ordinarily I would never break Grace's confidence like this, but I know she cares for all of you and I think her stubbornness and inability to talk about her feelings will hurt her in the end," she took a deep breath and another sip of scotch. "Grace was in high school and I was going to Juliart in Michigan. Unlike Grace, I never made the effort to blend with local interests of football and got out of there the minute I turned 18. With daddy's glowing approval, Grace was dating the cornerback of his prize team. A defensive player, built like a tank. Daddy loved that boy. Everyone was convinced he was going to go pro and that was like currency in our town. This kid could do no wrong," Cherry's voice dripped with contempt.

"So naturally, when he started hitting Grace, daddy was less than thrilled. Not so much because his little girl was getting worked over, but because any reports to the police would ruin his big chance to get a player in the big league. He asked Grace to keep a lid on it. Grace, sweet to the core, agreed. Needless to say, the boy continued to hit her."

Cherry had been watching Rigsby and noticed the subtle tightening in his arms and bunching in his chest. His breathing was getting faster. As a dancer trained in the art of physical expression, she knew these signs only too well. This man wanted to hit something. Hard. She reached out across the table and patted his knee reassuringly. He flinched at the contact, but she kept her hand on him and looked him in the eye. "She's fine now, Wayne. Let me finish." He relaxed only slightly and nodded.

"Grace tried to stay strong and quiet, but she was only 16 and she was lonely and scared. She broke down and called me. Told me everything. You can only imagine how I reacted," Cherry smiled with no warmth. "I jumped in my car and drove 14 hours straight. I got into town, made some calls to some old guy friends from my graduating class, and we went to visit that boy."

"You thought talking to him would scare him straight?" Rigsby asked angrily. Cherry smiled sadly at him. "Not at all, sweetie. That's why I had my guys beat the shit out of him."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six- Mr. Blonde**

The three men all felt a chill enter the air from the frostiness in Cherry's voice.

"You didn't." Cho said.

"Oh, I assure you I most certainly did. Not being very strong myself, I figured four ex-players from the soccer team would make more of a statement. I did however bring a baseball bat. I broke his arm myself."

"He was a kid," Jane said quietly.

"He was a 17-year-old spoiled brat with huge muscles and a dangerous habit that he indulged one too many times." Cherry responded icily, her metal implant twitching upward over her eye. "He got what he deserved. So did the whole town. In breaking him arm I put him out of the playing season and off the talent scout radar. Serves them right for putting that bastard above a sweetheart only wanted to help people."

They were all silent for a moment as they absorbed Cherry's story.

Cho spoke first. "How did Grace take your interference?"

"A mixture of relief and anger, I think," Cherry said. "That guy never touched her again, but daddy and everyone else was furious at his beating. Grace felt responsible. She didn't think his actions warranted having his life ruined. Only recently has she begun to talk about it with me again. I think she's finally starting to let go. I think it's due in part to Wayne here. The boyfriends she had since then have tended to be mousy, slight in build and easy to control. I think she felt safe knowing she could overtake them physically and never give her heart to them completely. But now seeing you, Wayne, I'm very hopeful that she's moving on. You're a much scarier prospect for her, but she's falling for you anyway. A good sign."

Rigsby smiled wanly. "Thank you, Cherry. But your sister isn't in love with me. She clearly loves someone else."

Cherry looked at him quizzically. "Someone else? At your office? Impossible."

"No," Rigsby clarified. "Liev. She's in love with him. When he came to the office, it was clear. And downstairs when he came over to the two of you. It's just…she obviously wants…it's not me."

Jane watched as Cherry's eyes melted at Rigsby's words. She bit her lips to keep from smiling at his expense. "God, you're adorable, Wayne. No wonder Grace fell for you," she paused for a moment, letting him blush at her compliment before she continued. "Grace cares for Liev a great deal. He's almost always her partner when she practices. But then, women who are afraid of intimacy often find gay men very safe to be with."

Rigsby's head shot up and his eyes went wide. "Gay?"

She nodded. "_Very_ gay," Cherry confirmed.

"Then she…she's not…they're not," he sputtered and Cherry laughingly shook her head. "No, she's not and they're not. As I said, Wayne, she loves you. And my little ruse to get you here seems to have worked. A little too well," she eyed Cho and Jane.

"So you wanted Rigsby to follow her?" asked Cho.

"Of course! You think I invite everyone to this party in such a conspicuous way? Sending in mutes with mysterious invitations and costumes and making a big, dramatic scene? We wouldn't stay an alleged party for long," she smirked. "I used Liev to make sure Grace responded well and to make sure Wayne was jealous enough to follow her here. It must have been quite a scene to tempt three of you."

"I'm just here for the glamour," Cho said stonily. Cherry exploded with hearty laughter. "Then glamour you shall have. Kimball, isn't it?" He nodded. Cherry pressed a buzzer on the coffee table and a moment later, a drop-dead gorgeous Goth woman appeared at the door. She wore a torn-up Catholic schoolgirl outfit with a very short skirt and tall platform boots. Her glasses were thick and black and framed her lovely, vampy face and set off her jet-black pigtails. Jane could see a riding crop and handcuffs secured in her belt. Somehow this woman is exactly Cho's type, he thought. "Yes, Cherry?" she purred. Cherry stood and faced her. "My guests of honor have arrived, Anna Angel. Would you please take Kimball and give him a tour of our party? Make sure he has everything he needs." Cherry turned back to Cho. "This is Anna Angel. She'll be your companion for the rest of the evening. Enjoy yourself, Kimball."

Cho stared unblinkingly at Anna Angel as he walked up to her and, to the other boys' astonishment, offered his arm. Anna Angel smiled and took it. "Am I going to have any trouble with you, Kimball?" she asked kittenishly. "Only if you want trouble, ma'am," Cho answered gravely. Anna Angel laughed musically as they sauntered out of the room. Rigsby and Jane looked back at each other and shrugged in unison.

Cherry walked over to her desk and picked up a walkie-talkie. She flipped it on and spoke into it. "This is Seven of Nine. Can someone find Carrie and bring her to my office, please?"

Static followed for a few moments until a scratchy voice filled the air. "Got it, Seven. We're bringing her to you now."

Cherry put the walkie-talkie back and resumed her place on the sofa, facing the boys. A moment later, a little blonde pixie dressed in a blazing yellow jumpsuit and a samurai sword sheathed on her back walked in escorting Grace. The pint-sized Beatrix Kiddo gestured to Grace to enter alone and smiled at Cherry before turning to leave. Grace came forward, staring at Rigsby and Jane with a mixture of confusion and anger. Then she saw Cherry sitting across from them and her expression got even more complicated. "What is going on? What are you doing here?" she asked the boys angrily. They were about to answer, but she cut them off. "Oh, my God. You followed me here, didn't you? I should have known. I can't believe you! I can't even go to a party without you prowling around--,"

"Gray, hush," Cherry held up her hand to silence her. "Your colleagues are here at my invitation. You never invite me to your work to meet them, so I had to invite them to mine."

Grace blushed at the inference that she didn't involve her sister in her work, but quickly regrouped. "You could have told me they were coming. And why aren't they--,"

"Gray," Cherry interrupted again as she got up, took Grace by the arm and pulled her out of the office and shut the door, leaving the boys alone.

Grace stared at Cherry in astonishment. "What is going on?" she whispered loudly.

Cherry held her by the shoulders and looked squarely into her blood-streaked face. "You love that man in there, and he loves you. He followed you here, it's true, but I want you to stow your angry, stubborn crap and take him back down to the party. I want you to dance with him, talk with him, learn something about him that isn't related to work. Make yourself trust him, trust your happiness with him. Quit hiding behind Liev and be with Wayne. You hear me?" Cherry's grip loosened as she felt Grace sag under her hands. She smiled into her younger sister's face and cupped her cheeks. "He's not Kevin, Gray. He's kind. He's gentle. And he's cute as hell. To hell with your office's rules, just be with him tonight. See what happens."

Grace trembled as she returned Cherry's gaze. "How did you know?"

"I _always_ know," she answered and hugged her tightly. She led Grace back into her office. The boys were still on the sofa, waiting patiently. Grace took a deep breath and walked over to where Rigsby was sitting. She hesitantly held out her hand to him and he took it instantly, standing up as their gazes locked on each other. There was a moment, an eternal moment, that Jane and Cherry saw from the outside as Grace and Wayne stared at one another. Grace finally spoke. "Would you like to go get a drink with me downstairs, Rigsby?"

"Absolutely," he answered immediately. He offered his arm as he'd seen Cho do, and after a look a surprise, Grace accepted it and they walked towards the door. Before they went through, Cherry put her hand on Rigsby's chest, stopping them.

"If anyone asks," she smiled at him as she regarded his black suit and tie, "you're Mr. Blonde."

The young couple smiled shyly and walked out. Cherry stood at the door for a moment before walking back to the Chesterfield and sitting across from Jane once more.

"And then there were two," he said quietly. "Indeed," she answered. "So, who came to listen at the door?"

"Psht," Jane waved his hand dismissively, but Cherry only arched a brow at him. He couldn't resist. "Fine. I made Rigsby go listen. I thought Grace might admit something he needed to hear."

She laughed softly. "Good. I was hoping he might. We're quite the devious pair, you and I."

He laughed in return. "Devious? What an ugly word."

"I can think of a few others to describe us," she said cryptically.

"I'm intrigued. Please do."

"Devious is certainly one of them. Coy. Arrogant. Deceitful. Nosy. Interfering. Playful. Haughty," she paused. "Vengeful."

Jane's eyes, which had been sparkling with mischief and delight at his newfound friend, went dead. "Vengeful," he repeated.

She considered him calmly. "Correct. Vengeful. You can deny it, if you like. I won't press it."

He cocked his head at her. "I don't see why you would read me as vengeful. You just met me. Has Grace mentioned something?"

"Nothing," she said. "You and I are very similar, Patrick, both personally and professionally. Our careers require that we beguile and use every art of deception to enthrall our audience. We feel none of the show we put on. We've become quite adept at reading people and manipulating them accordingly. Would you not agree?"

He considered. "Professionally, yes I would agree. That doesn't answer why you think I'm vengeful."

She jutted her chin at him. "Because I'm reading you. I watched Rigsby when I told my story about Grace, but I also watched you. When I mentioned that I beat that kid with a baseball bat, your pupils flared and your head nodded very slightly. You approve of my behavior, despite your admonishment. Hence you approve of vengeance. I also heard that you flinched when Kaiko—Poison Ivy--responded to Rigsby and not you. You didn't like it. At all. And it's not sexual, you were jealous that his sweetness gave him power. Thus you also have control issues. You mask it, very well I might add, but deep down you're an angry, controlling man who must have his way, or else."

Jane said nothing. He wasn't used to being on the business end of a psychological strip-down and he didn't like it. At all. Cherry smiled kindly at him. "As I say, you can deny it if you like. I'm not here to cause you discomfort. In fact, perhaps you can tell me why you decided to tag along? Rigsby and Cho have their reasons. What's yours?"

Jane wasn't sure if he wanted to move away from the current subject, but he didn't really want to delve any deeper into it either. "Idle curiosity," he answered.

She sat back and tapped her index finger to her lips as she regarded him. "I'll accept that. Mostly because I don't think you know _why_ you came, except to cause trouble and give yourself something to do. You busy yourself all the time to keep yourself from contemplating something else, don't you? Something horrible."

Yes, Jane was definitely done with this conversation. This woman was poking and prodding around, assuming whatever she damn well pleased and didn't seem remotely worried that she might be wrong. Or might be hurting him. His careful control over his emotions slipped. "I find it hard to accept criticism about control and anger from a self-professed kid beater dressed like an unemotional cyborg."

Her eyes flickered a little. She held his gaze. "You're angry. I understand. But just so you know, the number one rule of the Alleged Halloween Party is never to dress in something you picked yourself. Liev pulled Grace's name. Kaiko pulled mine. We choose each other's costumes according to the theme of the year. Do you find my costume that incongruous to my character?"

God, that felt like an ink blot question to Jane. Meanings within meanings and endless speculation. Suddenly he was tired. He stood up. "Well, I believe that all has turned out as it should tonight. Grace and Rigsby are together, Cho is probably tied up and gagged by a dominatrix. I'm tired and ready to hit the sack. Thank you, Miss Cherry, for a colorful evening."

Cherry looked up at him through her lashes. "First a liar, now a coward." She stood up as well and extended her hand formally, dropping her previous expression of knowing and kindness and replacing it was a plastic, empty smile. "Then good evening to you, Mr. Jane. I hope your visit to the House of Ill Repute has been entertaining."

He took her hand lightly, staring into her eyes, looking desperately for Cherry and not the Stepford hostess that just took her place. But her eyes stayed vacant, Cherry was behind the curtain, just out of sight, watching the show.

He went for broke and decided to show his hand. He sighed heavily and dropped his mask. Maybe it was time. Maybe this total stranger was his ticket to absolution, or honesty, or just anything that felt something like normality. His eyes filled with pain as he whispered low, "I don't want to be the man you described."

Cherry instantly returned, gripping his hand in both of hers and bringing it to her chest. "Then don't," she whispered back.

He shook his head. "What do you do? If we're so alike and you feel anger and the need to control everything all the time, how do you stop it?"

She reached out and stroked his cheek comfortingly. "I have friends. I have Grace. I make myself care about them more than I care about those stupid things. I remember that if left to my own devices, I go to bad places." She continued to hold his face. Her thumb intercepted a tear as it slid down his face. She smiled at him with infinite empathy, but no pity, which he was grateful for. "You are always welcome here, Patrick. Come and see me anytime, especially if those thoughts are particularly strong. They feed on your sadness. I know you know that."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven- Alone at Last**

Grace led Rigsby out into a private garden that was practically ablaze with ornately cut Jack-o-lanterns and walked to a rocking bench under an old oak to sit down. The party was amazing and Grace had enjoyed showing Rigsby around. She'd even convinced him to dance, squeezing his hand and insisting he had to give it the old college try. She could tell he was intimidated by the other dancers as they shimmied and snaked all around them, so she waited for a slow song and wouldn't take no for an answer. She drew up all of her courage, stepped into his space and put her arms around his neck, holding him close and moving slowly. He hesitantly slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. His brain liquefied when he felt no telltale lines of panties or a bra along her back. Just a thin barrier of silk. She looked up at the tall man in her arms and smiled shyly as he reached up and tugged gently at one of her blood-caked locks of hair. "You scared me to death when you came out of your apartment tonight," he said.

Her smile widened. "Serves you right for spying. You're lucky I didn't set you on fire with my mind."

He tilted his head back and laughed. He pulled her closer and rested his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

She sighed happily against him and nodded. "You're forgiven," she said. After the song finished, she looked up at him, "I'm a little warm. Wanna come outside with me for a minute?"

And now here they were, sitting on the bench and rocking gently. Her dress was flimsy and she shivered a bit in the breeze. Rigsby immediately shrugged out of his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She smiled at him gratefully and pulled the jacket tighter around her. She could smell his scent as it settled all around her, a mixture of leather and that antiseptic tang of aftershave. She breathed it in deeply, loving its relaxing affect on her. Rigsby watched her eyes close as she inhaled the smell of his clothing. A pang of longing and sexual ache stabbed deep in his body and he groaned inwardly.

"Can I hold you, Grace?" he asked hoarsely. She opened her eyes in surprise at his request, then blushed as she looked down and nodded. He moved closer to her and put his arm around her, pulling her into his side and stroking her hair as her head settled into the hollow of his shoulder. He was warm despite the evening chill and she snuggled closer into his side. His arm tightened around her as he continued to twirl her hair between his fingers. She took a deep breath and slowly wrapped her arm around his stomach as she brought her face a little closer to the base of his throat. She watched his pulse jump visibly under his skin and couldn't help herself as she reached up with her other hand and traced it, feeling it leap like a living thing under her touch.

Rigsby gasped at the lightness of her fingers on his skin, how they managed to ignite his nerves and send tingles straight to his spine. He heard Grace giggle into his chest. "What?" he asked.

"You've got goosebumps where I just touched you," she said.

Rigsby responded without thinking. "I get goosebumps just thinking about you."

Grace pushed herself up so that she could look at him. Her fingers moved from his throat and blazed a tingling trail up his jaw, across his cheek and into his hair. She looked at him for a very long time before speaking. When she did it was barely a whisper.

"I tried so hard to not love you," she said.

Rigsby's breath caught in his throat. He slowly brought his hand to her face and traced a single finger down her bloody cheek. "I never had a chance. You struck me down the day I met you, Grace."

She smiled and looked down in embarrassment. She could feel his eyes on her face, and she felt her blood rush through her body. His finger was still wandering lightly over her cheek. She looked up at him again. "Can I show you something?"

He smiled softly. "Please."

She took his hand and stood up, pulling him to his feet. She led him through the house, away from the party, to an upstairs hallway. She paused outside of one of the doors. Her back was to him and he saw hesitation in the set of her lovely shoulders before they pulled up resolutely and Grace turned the knob. She stepped in, beckoning him to follow. Rigsby stepped into a very richly furnished bedroom, done in the same gothic and decadent style as the rest of the house: a large writing desk, an antique wardrobe, a very large mirror with an ornate gold frame, and an absolutely massive bed set in a heavy wooden headboard. He could see that a large bathroom adjoined it, and he could just make out an enormous sunken bathtub in the center of it. Almost like a Jacuzzi. He took in his surroundings slowly, appreciating their beauty, though it wasn't really his style. He turned smilingly to Grace. "Where are we?"

She looked down shyly. "Cherry gave this room to me years ago. If I ever wanted to get away, or stay over after a late night here, she promised that this room would always be here for me. I've never shown it to anyone before," she kept her eyes on the floor.

Rigsby's chest tightened. He loved that she thought him worthy enough to enter her private sanctuary, and he struggled to breathe as he considered what that might mean for them. "I'm honored. I know what your privacy means to you, Grace," he said carefully. She looked up at him, considering his words before responding, "I think I've had enough privacy. I think it's time for something else."

Rigsby allowed himself to move three inches in her direction. "Something else," he repeated. She smiled, moving three inches towards him. "Something scary," she said. He froze. _Dear God, please don't be afraid_, he thought. He stayed where he was, looking at Grace and waiting for her. She continued to smile and move towards him slowly. "Something safe," she whispered. Rigsby didn't dare to even breathe. She came to a stop right in front of him, much like their dance just an hour before. She hesitantly brought her hands to her shoulders where his jacket still swamped her upper body and pushed it off, letting it fall to the floor. She slid her hands up his chest, fanning her fingers out and enjoying the feel of his muscles and warmth through his shirt. "You," she said simply. She felt his hands slide around her waist and wander restlessly over her bare back. She helplessly arched into his embrace and tipped her head up. His lips met hers and the last of her reservations and fear melted in the heat of their kiss. He pulled her closer, pressing his chest against her breasts and stomach. She wrapped her arms around his neck, simultaneously pulling herself up on her toes and pulling him down to her. Her tongue slid along his lips, teasing them to open. He gladly did so and promptly stole her breath when he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue and encouraging hers to do the same. He groaned into her mouth and raked his hand through her hair. She flinched and broke the kiss. His fingers had gotten caught in the dried blood and pulled it slightly. He gave her an apologetic smile and he pulled his hand from her tangled locks. "Sorry, sweetie. I forgot," he kept his arms around her, not willing to let go for fear of never getting her back into them. She smiled up at him, reassuring him, and then looked down at her dress. "It's okay. I also forgot how much of a mess I am." She paused as she considered something before looking up at him. Her eyes were uncertain. He gazed back at her lovingly, not wanting to press her for her thoughts, and instead just played with the end of one of her curls on her back. She closed her eyes and sighed happily at the sensation of being held and stroked so sweetly. When she opened her eyes again, the uncertainty was gone. She gently pulled his arms away from her and stepped back. She took a deep breath before bringing her hands once again to her shoulders. She lifted the spaghetti straps up and away from her arms and let the dress fall from her body. It landed with a soft whoosh around her high heels. Rigsby had been right, she wore absolutely nothing beneath it. Rigsby gasped. Never had he seen such a stunning sight in his life. Her shoulders, her hair, her stomach, the swell of her hips and breasts, all smeared with red. Every inch of her was perfect, built to entice even the strongest man and bring him to his knees. His eyes went wide with hunger before he shut them tightly, ducking his head to one side. "Jesus, Grace," he whispered hoarsely.

She stepped into his space again, taking his arms and wrapping them around her back once more. His inhaled sharply at the feel of her glorious, naked body in his arms, still keeping his eyes squeezed shut. Still, he couldn't help it as his fingers splayed out wide, desperately trying to touch as much skin as possible without moving his hands. Grace smiled softly at his gallantry. She could tell that there wasn't a bit of shyness or insecurity in his act of voluntary blindness, just pure nobility and self-restraint. She pressed her body harder against his and captured his face in her hands, turning it towards hers. "Look at me, Wayne," she said softly. His chest pushed hard against her as his breathing continued, deep and ragged. She also felt the large bulge pushing against her lower belly. He swallowed before finally opening his eyes. She gasped at their transformation and her knees suddenly went weak. Over the past eight months, she'd gotten to know Wayne Rigsby fairly well: his moods, his interests, his actions and his thought processes. But she'd also studied his face in great detail. She knew his smile. She knew his frown. She knew that he raked his hands through his hair when he was frustrated. She knew he leaned forward slightly when standing, like he was aware of how much taller he was than everyone else and subconsciously tried to be shorter in order to fit in. She knew he fisted his large hands when he was angry. And she knew—she _knew_—that in the eight months she'd known him, she'd never seen this look of pure animal lust that darkened his light blue eyes to a stormy grey. Her body shuddered in ancient recognition of a fully aroused alpha male. She instinctively pressed against him harder and uttered a small mewl of desire. His arms tightened around her as he continued to stare at her. "Tell me what to do, Grace," he rasped. She smiled, admiring his restraint once again. She glanced down at the smears of red paint on her chest and stomach before looking back up at him. "Take a bath with me."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight- Wet**

She didn't give him time to answer, merely extracted herself from his arms and sauntered into the bathroom, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She bent down to the tap of the mammoth sunken tub, turned it on full blast and threw in a bubble packet, hoping impatiently that it filled quickly. She straightened up only to hear softer footfalls come to a stop right behind her. She didn't turn around. Slowly, so slowly, two large hands slipped around her, one at her waist and one across her shoulders. They pulled her back against Rigsby's chest. The fabric of his shirt was soft against her skin. Grace moaned as he explored her body, her head falling back against his throat as his hands moved over her breasts, her stomach, her hips. He put his lips to her hear. "I've held you like this before," he whispered. She nodded as her eyes fluttered shut. "When my invitation came. Did you think about touching me like this that day?"

Both of his hands slid up to cup her breasts, teasing her nipples between his fingers and making her gasp with pleasure. He growled deep in his throat. "Always. I always imagine touching you this way. Every damn day since I met you. But that day was different. That day I actually got to feel you against me, to smell your skin and feel your heat. You were fighting me, but I still imagined what it would be like."

Grace turned her head and looked up at him over her shoulder. "I didn't want to fight you. I wanted to do something very different," she snaked her hands behind her back to the front of his pants where his erection was pushing at her back, demanding to be set free. His hips bucked at her touch and he hissed at her unexpected move. She stroked him through the fabric as she continued to watch him over her shoulder. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as she gave him a light hand job through his clothes. He hands tightened possessively just under her breasts, staking his claim just as she was staking hers.

Grace looked down at the tub. It was full of steaming, bubbly water. She released her hold on Rigsby and leaned down to turn the tap off. Without turning back, she removed her heels and sat on the edge of the tub, dipping her legs into the water before lowering herself into one the submerged benches. Water and bubbles covered her from the shoulders up and instantly starting to turn pink as her red body paint began to dissolve. She looked up at him expectantly as she reached up and took her tiara off, tossing it aside. He wasted no time and started to strip. "Slowly," Grace said. "I want to watch you."

He looked down at her in surprise. "Am I your private dancer now? Any ole music will do?"

She giggled at the song reference and shook her head. "You're just handsome. Don't most girls want to watch handsome men take their clothes off?"

He smiled and, to Grace's delight, he blushed. He obeyed and stripped slowly, starting with his tie, then his shirt buttons, then his tee shirt, socks, shoes and pants. Watching him slowly pull his zipper down and push them from his hips made Grace's thighs twitch apart involuntarily. He left his boxers on and paused, giving her a questioning look. _He's asking permission_, she realized. Grace marveled. Cherry was right, Wayne was different, fundamentally different, from Kevin or any other man she'd ever allowed herself to become involved with. She melted all over again at his respect for her. She looked up at him and smiled mischievously. "I showed you mine."

He grinned at her answer and finished his striptease. He stood before her every bit as naked as she was before crouching to the tub's edge and lowering himself in beside her. Grace wasted no time. She launched herself out of her seat and straddled his lap. Rigsby gasped in surprise at her boldness. Her arms clasped around his neck as she kissed him desperately, running her wet hands through his hair and breaking the spiky gel holding it in place. She pressed her entire body into his, making him feel how much she wanted him. He kissed her back just as hungrily, his hands roving over her curves. He groaned at the feel of her soap-slicked breasts under his hands, moving them lower and gripping her ass. Grace bucked and cried out as one of his hands caressed between her thighs, making her legs instinctively open wider across his lap. Her hands slid from his neck, down his chest and disappeared under the soapy water. Rigsby hissed and uttered a ragged sound of ecstasy when he felt two small hands grip his erection and begin to stroke it firmly. They continued to work each other, pushing and thrusting and moaning as each of them gave as good as they got. Grace was the first to lose control. She bucked against him hard and cried out his name. Rigsby thought she'd climaxed, but she released his cock and grabbed his hands from between her thighs and pinned them to the tile on either side of his body. "No more," she gasped. "I don't want to come yet."

He smiled and pushed his hands against her hold. It would be so easy for him to pull free, but he adored her effort to keep him down, so he only pushed half-heartedly.

"Why not?" he asked her. She smiled and kissed him deeply before breaking it to answer him.

"Because I want you inside me when I do," she told him without a trace of shyness.

He inhaled sharply and moved to grip her again, but she kept his hands pinned at his side and didn't let them move. He smiled wickedly at her. "Did you want to handcuff me? It's the only way I'll be able to keep my hands off you."

She shivered and hummed at such a delicious thought. "Later. Right now, I need to get this paint out of my hair."

Before Rigsby could offer to rinse it out for her, she moved out of his lap, took a deep breath, and slipped under the bubbly surface. He expected her to resurface immediately after wetting her hair, and was shocked when he felt her mouth envelope the tip of his cock and her tongue flick along the nerves on the head. He gasped and groaned as he received an invisible blowjob from a redheaded mermaid. She took in more of him, sucking and stroking up and down. He tried so hard not to, but he quickly lost the battle and bucked against her mouth, choking on her name. He felt her nails scrap lightly along his abdomen, causing his entire body to shudder with a mixture of ticklishness and need. Her hair, light as strands of silk, was dancing on his lap and in between his thighs. She couldn't have been down there for more than thirty seconds, but when she resurfaced, all clean and shiny without a trace of paint, she found him panting and trembling and raw with desire.

She suddenly felt shy again. She hadn't planned that move, she just felt overwhelmed with a need to please him. And herself, as she'd quite enjoyed the feel of his rock-hard erection deep in her throat. But he looked so…ravenous. She wasn't vastly experienced when it came to men's sexual preferences. Had she done a good thing?

"Was that okay?" she asked quietly.

His eyes snapped with liquid blue fire as he gripped her shoulders and kissed her hard. He grabbed her legs and made her straddle him again. His mouth moved lower, hungrily sucking on her neck before moving lower still. He stroked her breasts with his hands before choosing the left one and sucking lightly on her nipple. She moaned and arched into him, fisting her hands in his hair as he moved his onslaught to her right nipple, sucking and nibbling lightly. She barely heard herself as all sorts of eager sounds escaped her lips and tumbled into his ear. Rigsby suddenly stood up in the tub, holding her to him but gently nudging her legs down so that she stood beside him. He stepped up on the bench, then up and out of the tub. He held his hand down to her, his body dripping wet and rock hard. His eyes still sparked an electrical blue fire as he stared unflinchingly into her eyes. "Bed. Now."

She put her hand in his and climbed out of the tub with his help. Once she stood beside him, he instantly bent down and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her to his chest. Their soapy, frictionless bodies slid effortlessly against each other. She laughed softly and curled her arms around his neck, her fingers delving into his wet hair that now shone as dark and shiny as raven feathers. It felt surprisingly soft without gel.

"What's wrong with the tub? Or the floor?" she asked.

He shook his head, droplets of water flying in all directions. "Not now. Not…for this."

She shivered and nodded her understanding. This, meaning their first time. He stared into her eyes intently, taking in the wet and willing woman in his arms. He didn't want to just take her on the floor, he needed this to be special. He wanted her to know that he wasn't the bastard from Cherry's story, nor was he a mousy sap that simply took whatever sexual suggestion she gave him, expecting him to follow without question. He knew what he wanted, and that was hours and hours of making love to Grace in the most ardent and loving way he was able. He wanted her to moan, to scream, to call out his name, to give herself to him without the slightest trace of fear or regret. And with this wonderful gift of trust, he would shatter himself physically to give her the best sex of her life. He didn't care if it killed him. He. Would. Satisfy. Her.

This required a bed.

He walked out of the bathroom and to enormous bed where he laid her down gently. His eyes never left her as his hands began to massage their way up her legs. Her eyes cast down to his hands nervously as they slowly made their way up. As sure as she was of wanting Wayne in every way, she still couldn't control her insecure fear of being so intimate with a man she loved as much as him. She filled the silence with chatter. "We're soaked. We're getting the bed all wet," she heard the shudder in her voice and instantly hated that she'd said something so mood-spoiling. She looked in his eyes and saw that he was far from being put off by her unsexy comment, and instead he lowered his head and whispered gruffly, "If getting a little wet is the worst punishment this bed gets tonight, it should count itself lucky."

Grace uttered a small cry of eagerness as her body arched towards the sound of his voice, towards the loving menace in his promise. "Oh, God," she whispered.

His hands moved higher until they gripped her hips, then slowly moving towards the center, towards the one place on earth he wanted to be more than anywhere. He looked up at her. Her eyes were closed, her body prone and reaching into him. But he needed more than this. As his fingers gently inserted between her folds and into her core, he let her gasp and cry out before asking her. "Do you want to punish this bed with me, Grace?"

She opened her eyes and nodded desperately. "Yes," she whimpered.

He smiled at her. "Do you want to make love with me in every position we can think of until we're exhausted?"

His heart swelled when she smiled and shivered against his hand. "Yes," she whispered again.

He scissored his fingers inside of her, pushing her walls apart. Her breath caught and ripped harshly from her lips. It took all of Rigsby's self-control to continue. "Tell me how you want me, Grace."

She arched into his hand again and gasped her answer. "On top of me. I want your weight. Pin me down and hold me."

He could do nothing but obey. He pulled his hand from her and quickly covered her slick, smooth body with his own. His raging erection slipped between her legs and he nudged his tip against her entrance. Her arms immediately went around his back, clutching his shoulder and his waist. Her legs went around his waist, straining upwards, trying to take more of him. "God, you're so hard," she moaned into his ear. Rigsby groaned into her throat and his hips instinctively sank against hers, his cock pushing of its own accord deep into her tight wet heat. Grace's body tightened around him as mercilessly as a python as she sobbed his name. Rigsby swore loudly and made his first thrust inside her. He wanted so badly to go slow, but Grace wasn't having it and he didn't have enough willpower to disagree. She drove her hips up to his, meeting him halfway, arching into his body just as he drove down into hers.

Rigsby hissed and gritted his teeth as he tried desperately to hang on. She was so beautiful, so eager, so soft and willing, and to be honest she felt as tight as a virgin. He kept his eyes screwed shut and tried counting to help ward off his climax. Grace threaded her fingers through his hair and forced his head down, his lips colliding with hers. She whispered against them, "Whatever you're doing, stop. Open your eyes and look at me. Don't look away, stay with me."

"I can't," he whispered back. "It's too much. You're too much. If I look at you I'll come," he kissed her hungrily, still keeping his eyes squeezed tight. "It's just been too long, baby."

She moaned into his kiss. _Too long?_ _Had he been waiting for her? Abstaining? For her?_ She thrust her hips hard up against his and made him growl, vibrating hard against her breasts.

"How long?" she asked as she thrust upwards again.

He continued to meet her hips, their pace ever-increasing. "Nine months," he gasped.

Grace would never have believed it, but his confession alone made her come on the spot. Her body shook in violent spasms as her inner walls fluttered and clenched all around him. She screamed. Loud. Long. Her arms and legs constricted around him as she splintered into a thousand pieces.

Then, and only then, did Rigsby open his eyes. And just as he prophesized, he came. The sight of her screaming, arching, clenching body sent him right over the edge after her. He ejaculated forcefully, ramming his hips against hers and bellowing her name.

He collapsed on top of her, panting, sweating.

"Graaace," he groaned into her ear. He propped his elbows on either side of her, looking down at the gasping, shuddering woman beneath him. Her limbs lessened their stranglehold on him, but only just. She continued to hold him tightly against her, adoring his weight and relishing having a strong man in her arms after so many years of dating thin, gangly boys.

She opened her eyes and gazed lovingly at him. "Nine months? Really?" she asked him, her nails lightly tracing over his back.

He gave her an embarrassed smile. "Nine months, really. You came into my life and there was no one else. I tried, but it was pointless. You were all I wanted."

She lifted her head to reach his lips, kissing him softly, lazily. When she pulled back she was smiling. "Now that the drought's over. When do you think you'll be ready again?" she asked teasingly.

He pushed his body down onto hers, pinning her deep into the mattress. "How 'bout now?"

Her eyes went wide and she giggled. "Now? As in right now? Don't you…you know…need a minute?"

He could already feel himself growing inside of her and shook his head. "Not with you. Never with you. Now, how did you want me _this_ time?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine- Search and Result**

The next working day found three blissful agents and one preoccupied consultant in the bullpen. Rigsby and Grace couldn't stop glancing at each other. They'd peek out of the corners of their eyes, smile into their keyboards, and continue to type like no one was the wiser, when in fact their raging lust for each other might as well have been shouted from the capitol building. It was just that obvious. Even Cho was looking particularly pleased with himself as he read over the files on his desk. A small smile cracked the corners of his lips, which told Jane that he and Anna Angel must have hit it off. At one point Cho reached for his coffee mug and his shirt cuff pulled away just enough to show pink rope burns on his wrist. _Whatever floats your boat, man_, thought Jane, as he turned back into his couch.

Okay, so he admitted it. He was irritated. He'd left the House of Ill Repute feeling exposed and a little bit sad from his encounter with Cherry Van Pelt. His inability to get the upper hand, to charm her even a little, to hide his bad side that he'd worked so hard to cement into a darkened corner of his mind, it all irked him to no end. And yet she'd struck his defenses away without malice. She'd called him an angry control freak with sweetness. She'd stripped him naked, then stood back and didn't judge what she saw. And most of all, she didn't pity him. After his family was murdered and after his meltdown, no one could approach him without that god-awful look; that pull around the skin at the eyes, that soulful squint that people automatically give you when they're about to tell you how sorry they are. It made his skin crawl. But Cherry's eyes stayed wide. She _looked _at him, like she knew. What did she know? _Who the hell was this woman?_

Jane cast his glance over to Grace, watching her divide her time between working diligently and ogling Rigsby. He was struck by just how different the two sisters really were. Sure, they were both very smart, very pretty, but their differences were quite stark.

Grace: Shy, serious, over-sensitive, kind, respectful, wounded, but quickly healing.

Cherry: Bold, provocative, knowing, probing, playful, disciplined…also wounded?

Perhaps. Jane decided to do something about it. This woman niggled him. He hated being niggled. He went over to his seldom-used desk and booted up the computer. Cho looked up from his file.

"Everything okay?" he asked. Jane nodded. "Just checking something."

He pulled up the CBI mainframe and went to the standard information search page.

SEARCH: Cherry Van Pelt

He waited patiently as the computer chewed on his request.

RESULT: No name found.

Huh. Okay.

SEARCH: Van Pelt

He waited while his larger net went hunting.

RESULT: Van Pelt, Grace Marie

Jane looked up from his computer and turned towards Grace, preparing to ask what gives. But his question died on his lips. How was he supposed to explain what he's going looking up her sister? Okay, there's more than one way to skin a cat.

SEARCH: The House of Ill Repute

RESULT: Real Estate Register and Deed Information

Perfect. Jane double clicked.

**_The House of Ill Repute_**

_113 West Washington Avenue_

_Sacramento, CA 97547_

_Building Type: Dance Studio/Theater_

_Owner: Cherry Jane Delaney_

Jane? Delaney? Jane's niggle suddenly became an itch. Cherry's middle name was his last name? Cherry was married? He shook his head to clear the immediate and totally uncalled for irritation that filled his mind at that last question. First things first.

SEARCH: Cherry Delaney

RESULT: Delaney, Cherry Jane. Case information.

Case information? Jane squinted at the screen. This just kept getting weirder. Jane clicked the entry and waited for the screen to appear.

**Case File Number 113D859BA**

_Murder of Thomas Adam Delaney, August 10, 2005. Victim gunned down in a convenient store robbery after attempting to intervene. Shooter never identified. Victim was a surgeon at Santa Maria Hospital, Sacramento. Immediate surviving family: Cherry Delaney/widow, Sophia Delaney/daughter, Lila Delaney/daughter._

_Detailed case information filed in the Violent Crimes Database, authorization required._

_Widow_. The word came out of nowhere and smacked Jane right between the eyes. _Daughters_. Jesus. Her husband was shot in cold blood, leaving Cherry alone to fend for herself and their two children almost four years ago. He sat back, quickly clicking off the screen. He shook his head slowly. Is that why Cherry handled her suspicion of his grief so well? Because of her own loss? Did she hate that soulful squint as much as he did when people came up to her, took her hand and told her _how sorry_ they were? He bet she did. If she was right and they were cut from the same cloth, she'd hate that look very much indeed. And then he realized.

_Vengeful._

God, it all made sense now. There's not a human being on earth who understands vengeance better than someone who losses a loved one to the whim of a murderer. He thought at the time she was referring to her beating up that Kevin kid, but now he grasped her meaning fully. They were both vengeful because their partners had been snatched away by evil and heartless bastards.

Jane let out a slow breath, not sure how to process this new information. True, he knew more about Cherry, but the itch remained. Just then Lisbon appeared from her office door.

"Van Pelt?" she called.

Grace looked up from her desk. "Yes, boss?"

"Go home for the day. Tomorrow night I need you on stakeout and you'll need plenty of sleep. Get some rest and we'll see you tomorrow morning."

Grace nodded. "Sure, boss. See you tomorrow."

She packed up her things and turned off her computer. Before getting up, she scribbled something on a post-it note. She dropped it casually on Rigsby's desk without looking at him as she walked out of the office and towards the elevator. Rigsby picked it up and read it. Utter happiness and a tinge of lust spread over his face before he quickly crumpled the note and tossed it in the trash. He never noticed Jane's sleight of hand when his back was turned.

Jane picked up his teacup and strolled to the kitchen to boil some water before he casually produced Grace's note from his pocket.

_Going to Cherry's to dance._

_Come after work. You promised me a broken bed._

_G_

Jane couldn't help but smile. Young love. It really was a beautiful thing. He leaned against the counter, ignoring conventional wisdom and watching his teapot boil. So, Rigsby was going to the House tonight. Perhaps he should tag along? Once he made it clear that he wouldn't cramp Rigsby's style, he was pretty sure he could grab a ride with him. And why did he need to cajole Rigsby anyway? Didn't Cherry say he was always welcome? What was the big deal? Yes, definitely. He was going over there. He wanted to see more of the House and its occupants anyway. It was an interesting old building and burlesque was a beautiful art.

_Beautiful like Cherry._

Shut up, he told himself. Onto the House tonight, then. It was decided.

His teapot shrieked in agreement.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten- The Circus**

So it wasn't as easy as Jane thought, but after a brief debate, Rigsby agreed to take him along to the House. Oh, and Cho too. If Rigsby hadn't insisted on drawing the argument out, Cho never would have overheard and he would have been only driving one third wheel along, not two. His own fault, really.

They met little Beatrix Kiddo at the door, now dressed in a plain baby tee and short shorts. She let them in on her way to the practice hall, where she told them they'd also find the rest of the group. She smiled at the three men as they stood in the entryway. "Shall I take you to them?" she asked politely.

Jane smiled. "Please. Miss?"

"Julia. Please follow me."

Jane found their unstinting politeness here at the House to be most amusing. He assumed Cherry was behind it, insisting her employees maintained a certain decorum at all times, even when speaking to non-clients such as themselves. He found it...charming.

They followed Julia down another set of hallways to another part of this enormous house before coming to an open door from which loud acid rock music spewed forth. They entered yet another giant room, this one was a gym/dance hall/circus. There was a boxing ring, gymnast balance beams, stripper poles, free weights, treadmills, chains and silk ropes hanging from the ceiling, and about a dozen dancers on various pieces of all of this equipment. Each man instantly saw the woman they came to see. Rigsby saw Grace dancing a sort of street rhythm with Liev. She wore a simple tank top and short shorts like Julia. Liev was stripped to the waist and wore loose black dancer's pants. Their movements were as angry and fast as the violent rock they were moving to. Their hands gripped each other, forcing each other back, then into each other again. Their hands were covered in white powder for grip, which then transferred to their partner and left a map of everywhere their hands had been. Rigsby gasped at her sexy body and growled because it was in the arms of another man. He smothered it as best he could. Liev was not a threat. Rigsby's testosterone had just reacted before his mind could.

Cho saw Anna Angel and took a small step back in wonder. She was performing a rope dance, sliding and twirling from the silk ropes attached to the ceiling high above the floor. Her limbs caught and released the rope in time to the music, pulling her legs wide into splits, her arms open as she redistributed her weight. She wrapped herself up at the knee and released her hands, swooping upside down before catching herself and releasing her legs. An amazingly erotic form of acrobatics that made him break into a sweat.

And for Jane, there was only Cherry. Free of her cat suit and metal implants, she stood in the middle of the dance floor in a simple black tank and loose Capri pants. Her blonde hair fell at her back in a messy braid. Like all of the dancers, her feet were bare, but one of her ankles was wrapped for support. She was assisting two other dancers as they moved to the music, a busty brunette girl and a muscular blonde man. She'd watch stoically as their bodies clung and caught each other, occasionally stopping them to correct their posture or change their angle. She kept her eyes riveted on them, watching for any tiny mistake. But never were her instructions harsh or her eyes angry. She always had a patient smile for them when she spoke. At one point she separated them, pointing to the man's waist and indicating something to the brunette. The brunette shook her head in confusion, so Cherry took her place in the blonde man's arms and leapt upwards, catching her legs around his waist as he bent at the knees and caught her around her back. She arched backwards into a perfect bow, reaching down and touching the floor with her hands as her hips ground explicitly into the man's pelvis. Jane inhaled sharply. It one move the couple had simulated an overt sexual position that few had the limberness to get into. Cherry moved one hand off the floor and pointed to her feet locked behind his back to the brunette. She then placed her hands on the floor, released her legs from his waist into a handstand and flipped back up onto her feet. Astounding. The brunette resumed her place in his arms and mimicked Cherry's move. She smiled approvingly. Apparently the brunette had her feet locked properly.

These three men—men of education and knowledge of the ways of the world—were absolutely unable to get over the pure male reaction that seized their bodies as they watched these three women.

"Mommy!"

"_Mommy!_"

They all jerked back from their dirty thoughts as two little girls tore through the door between their legs and made a B line for Cherry. She turned from her dancers and called at the tops of her lungs over the music. "BABY, BABY!" and ran at them. She caught one in each arm, sliding to her knees and hugging them tightly to her as she smiled hugely into their faces. Both Rigsby and Jane took a startled breath as the children turned back towards them. The girls were almost carbon copies of their mother and aunt. The older girl (Jane put her at about seven years old) gazed happily through copper eyes. Her skin was pale as cream and her hair—her _hair_—was the color of a raging bonfire that fell around her shoulders. The little girl (he'd say about four years old) had bright blue eyes and blonde platinum hair that fell in a braid at her back, like her mother's. She and her sister giggled and screamed as Cherry started to tickle them. Their hair is what caught the men's attention. To Rigsby, the redheaded girl could easily have belonged to Grace. Thus, she could easily have belonged to him. The idea of Grace as a mother to a child—_his _child—who looked just like her caused him to purr inwardly.

To Jane, the blonde girl stabbed him in the heart with recollections of his own little blonde daughter. Granted, her face was Cherry's face and not that of his own baby girl, but her hair was almost identical, and it nearly broke his heart.

In the five seconds it took for these little ones to storm into the gym and into their mother's arms, one man had seen a glimpse of his future, and one man had an agonizing reminder of his past. Someone turned off the rock music, bringing both men from their thoughts.

"Gray! Liev!" the little redhead screamed as she leapt from her mother and into their dance frame. "Little Lila!" Liev clipped as he broke from Grace and caught the girl under her arms and launched her into the air, catching her while she shrieked and laughed at his antics. "Jackson!" screamed the little blonde (Sophia, Jane deduced) as she ran full speed at the handsome black man Cherry had danced with Halloween night. He turned from his boxing match with a lithe Latino man and turned on a thousand-watt smile and the girl running towards him. "SoSo!" he roared as he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around as fast as he could. She gripped his gloves and screamed her delight as she was whipped around in a circle. When he set her down she took a few steps and fell over, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. "Eeeeew, you're sweaty," she said between gasping giggles. He laughed. "S'what you get for jumping on me, little girl. If you'll excuse me, I have to go beat up Juarez here." He petted her head with his glove before turning back to his boxing game.

The little girls continued to run around the room, hugging everyone they saw, as Cherry stood up and brushed herself off, turning back to the dancers.

The blonde dancer put his hand on her shoulder. "I hate to bring it up again, Cher, but if we don't practice the pole dance, we're never going to have it ready for the show in three weeks."

The busty brunette nodded her head, speaking in a thick French accent, "I agree wis Johnny. If we're going to include it, zere must be a practice session first. His injury 'as healed. You must try."

Cherry exhaled loudly, dropping her head before looking up again. "Johnny, I'm really worried about injuring you. It's only been six weeks since you tore that muscle and the pole dance could cause more damage. Be honest with me. It feels strong enough to take the strain?"

Johnny nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, it's strong enough. Let's try for tomorrow first thing. Deal?"

Cherry sighed. "All right. We'll give it a shot." She glanced skywards. "How's is going up there, Anna Angel?"

Musical laughter rained on all of them from above. "All is well in the crow's nest, Captain."

Just then Rigsby felt a little hand tug on the sleeve of his jacket. He looked down into two smiling blue eyes. "Are you a giant?" little Sophia asked, her eyes wide with wonder at her mythological find in her mother's gym.

The three men, mere audience members until now, were noticed by the rest of the troupe. The dancers all turned towards the door at the sound of the girl's voice and the whistles and catcalls immediately started.

"Hey, Gray. Your man is here."

"Look out, Liev, he's got five inches on you AND a gun."

"Anna Angel! Your hottie cop is here too!"

A series of hoots and hollers followed as Rigsby bent down on his knee and chucked Sophia under the chin. "I guess to little girls, I am a giant. Don't tell anyone, okay? Especially Gray. She won't love me anymore if she knows I'm a big, mean giant."

Sophia giggled and looked over at Grace, who was walking up behind her and smiling at Rigsby. Rigsby stood up as Grace threw her arms around his neck and kissed him in front of everyone. The hooting increased tenfold. She pulled back and smiled at him. "You might a giant to little girls like us, but I still love you anyway. Dinner?" she asked him. "Hell, yes," he said. And they headed out.

Anna Angel swooped down from the ceiling and landed gracefully in front of them. She pointed squarely at Cho. "You. Follow me," she ordered in a sultry but firm voice that told everyone there would be no arguments. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door the just entered. He winked at Jane as he passed. More catcalls.

Just then Jane also felt a little hand pull at his jacket sleeve. He looked down into two copper eyes regarding him closely. "Are you the psychic that's rejecting his true calling?" she asked him with absolute seriousness. "Lila!" admonished Cherry as she walked up to Jane. "It's not nice to repeat what other people said in private," she chided, but was doing a horrible job of hiding her smile. She held out her hand. "Patrick. It's so good to see you again. Are you well?"

He took her hand. "Very. Thank you. So, was it you or Grace talking about me rejecting my psychic calling?" he teased. Cherry laughed as she leaned into him slightly.

"I'm afraid that's Grace. She feels that God has given you a wonderful gift that you're stubbornly refusing to accept."

Jane looked down at Lila and swept his hand through her hair affectionately. "I'll tell you what, Lila. You think of two different shapes and I'll try to guess what they are. Okay?"

Lila giggled and screwed her pretty face up in hard thought. It smoothed out quickly. "Got them!" she said. He dropped to one knee and looked deep into her eyes, studying this miniature Grace as he worked his trick. He reached out and put his index finger on her forehead. "You're thinking about…a circle…and a star. Is that right?"

Lila's eyes went round and she grabbed Cherry's hand. "Mommy! Did you see? He guessed my shapes! He's magic!"

Cherry burst into laughter as she held her daughter's hand. "I saw! I saw!" she leaned over and pushed Lila's fiery hair from her face. "Go get you and your sister ready. You're going to a sleepover with Babet and her girls tonight, remember?"

The two girls squealed with delight and tore out of the gym with the same wild happiness as when they entered it.

Jane stood up next to Cherry as they watched the girls take off down the hall. When they were out of sight, she turned to him and beamed. "So, what brings you back to my gin joint, mister?"

He looked into her lovely face and the truth came unbidden. "You."_ Dammit!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven- Circle, Parry and Strike**

Rigsby and Grace never made it to dinner. They never even made it out of the House. Once they were out of gym, they fell on each other and forgot all about food. Grace pulled his tie over her shoulder, leading his head to hers as she reached up and greedily nibbled his lower lip between her teeth. Rigsby's hands caught her under her thighs and lifted her up against his hips, pinning her against the nearest wall. His fingers pushed inside the legs of her shorts and gripped the bare skin of her ass. She pulled him back by his hair as she panted for air. "Bed. Now," she whispered.

He grinned at her. "Why not the tub?" he asked playfully. She grinned back and held up her powdered hands to his face.

"Because I want to see where my hands have been on your body," she said.

They managed to get upstairs where Grace quickly got chalk all over his suit, his tee shirt, his boxers, and finally his skin. She left palm prints on his chest as she rode him. She left fingerprints on his back as he loomed over her and drove frantically into her body. And she left trails of white in his dark hair when she stroked his head lovingly afterwards.

He flipped her to her side and spooned against her back protectively, nuzzling his face into her long hair and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed happily and snuggled back into his warm embrace.

"I'll never get over watching you dance," he said.

She chuckled. "I'm nothing compared to the guys downstairs. They've been doing it for years in the best dance academies in the world. But Cherry kept inviting me over and the boys thought it was fun to teach a newbie. It was embarrassing at first, but the troupe is so easygoing and fun that I eventually just went with it. Liev was always my favorite. He was the only one I could touch that way and know it didn't mean anything."

She felt Rigsby's arms tighten around her. He whispered gruffly into her ear. "He's damn lucky he doesn't swing your way. Watching him touch you makes me want to kill him. Gay or not."

Grace giggled despite herself and turned in his arms to face him. "Are you saying I'm not allowed to dance anymore? That even touching a gay man will set you off? Honestly, Wayne. I come here to escape, not to get cheap thrills by groping men," she paused as her finger traced his lips. "Unless you become my partner," she added teasingly. He smiled and kissed her fingertip. "I'd never ask you to stop dancing. You're too beautiful when you move. Just make sure Liev keeps his hands to himself."

Grace gave him a mock scowl and he laughed throatily. "So to speak, I mean."

Grace pushed his shoulder so that he settled on his back before she started crawling slowly up his body, tracing the patterns of chalk on his skin as she went.

"What about me? Do _I _have to keep my hands to myself?" she asked sweetly.

Rigsby's chest made a rumbling sound as he watched her stroke the lines of white powder on him. "Are you kidding? If it wasn't illegal and creepy, I'd tie you to this bed and insist you ravish me day and night. Never _ever _keep your hands to yourself, Gray. Ever."

She looked up at him and smiled, stilling her hands. "Gray? Since when do you call me Gray?"

"Since now. I like your little nickname. Unless there's something else you'd have me call you," he said.

She giggled as she completed her journey and fastened her body to his. "Call me yours," she whispered before her kiss stole his breath.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jane and Cherry sat with a half-empty bottle of scotch between them as they talked for hours about nothing. After the last of the dancers had left for the night, she'd kindly asked him if he'd like to come to her office for a drink. She had responded beautifully to his confession about coming to see her. Just as he was about to beat himself up mentally for blurting something so stupid, she'd laughed and slapped his arm playfully.

"Don't you try your old tired lines on me, sailor. Your schmoozing flattery is wasted on a burlesque dancer. We're totally immune."

And now they were sitting comfortably on her Chesterfield sofa, sipping scotch and laughing at each other's childhood stories. Most of hers had been about growing up in Iowa. Most had included Grace in some way. He loved the way her dark eyes sparkled when she mentioned her sister's name. He told stories about growing up as an evangelist preacher's son, moving from town to town and watching his dad go to work on the locals. He chose lighthearted stories. God knows there were more than a few ugly ones, but he and Cherry seemed to have made an unspoken agreement. No sob stories tonight. He broke that agreement into a thousand pieces when he set his drink down and looked up at her. "Tell me about Tom," he said.

Cherry inhaled sharply and her eyes lost their joy. She looked at him for a long time before mentally picking up her rapier. Jane felt her do it. They were in for another fencing match with each other. This time he was prepared.

"You've been checking up on me," she said coolly, circling him and preparing for a strike.

"Yes," he answered. He wouldn't back off, nor would he attack first. He circled her as well.

"I see," she said, also setting down her drink, working out her strategy. "What did you want to know?"

"As I said, tell me about him. Tell me about your life with him. About what happened four years ago." Careful, he urged himself.

For the first time, Cherry looked uncertain. He watched her as she quietly examined every possible answer she could give him that would either deflect him or cause her as little pain as possible. Her eyes calmed when she arrived at her answer.

"I'll tell you," she said quietly. "But only under hypnosis."

Jane pulled back in surprise. _Damn this woman_, he thought. Just as soon as he thought he'd had her, she parried and struck in the one place he wasn't expecting.

"Hypnosis? Why do I need to hypnotize you first?" he asked lightly.

"A few reasons. Namely, I don't want to remember talking about it. You can make sure I forget, isn't that right?" she asked.

He nodded. "And the other reasons?"

"Are personal," she replied bluntly.

Oh, she was clever. Despite her unwillingness to elaborate, Jane knew damn well why she was asking to be put under. Most people were extremely uncomfortable about being hypnotized. They worried that once their guard was down, all sorts of embarrassing thoughts and memories would come pouring out of their mouths. They don't like being in the thrall of others. It eliminates their control. But not Cherry. Cherry understood that in giving up her control, she was also giving up any responsibility to anything she might say. She could admit to anything: hating chocolate, fearing spiders, wanting a divorce from Tom before he died…perhaps being attracted a certain blonde psychic. None of this would matter the minute he brought her out of it. These were all just random thoughts that everyone has. Hypnosis may reveal them, but the hypnotized person bears no accountability once they're exposed. The social contract by which they all lived insisted that he couldn't use this information for anything but his own curiosity. He chuckled at the ingeniousness of her ploy.

Her brows lifted expectantly. "Well?"

He took a deep breath and nodded his head. "If you insist."

He slid over, sitting so close to her that his leg brushed her bare knee. He took her by the hand and drew a breath, selecting his most lulling timbre of speech to relax her. But before he uttered a word, she put a finger to his lips and whispered, "After I tell you my story, I expect to hear yours."

She removed her finger and put both of her hands in his. "I'm ready," she said.

It felt like they'd come too far for him to back out now, even with her new condition, so he pushed ahead.

"Okay Cherry, I want you to relax…"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12- Attack**

"I met Tom Delaney when I was 23 and had just moved to Sacramento. I had joined a local ballet troupe and had been performing in a four-month run of Rite of Spring when I broke my ankle."

Jane noticed that her wrapped foot twitched a fraction as she spoke. Her eyes fluttered under her lids as she spoke from deep under his spell.

"Tom was on call that night in the ER. We saw each other and just…froze," Cherry hesitated, swallowed, and continued. "Seeing him was like…flying…like drowning. And then he put his hands on my leg to examine me. He did nothing inappropriate as he checked my injury, but I knew from the minute he touched me…I loved him."

Jane smiled. Young love. It really was a beautiful thing.

"We married a year later. Lila came a year after that. Little Lila," she smiled through her trance. "I always tease Gray. She somehow switched my DNA with hers and tricked me into having her daughter. I adore that Lila looks like her. It's…haunting. Then, two years later, I was pregnant with SoSo."

Cherry stopped. She inhaled and let out a shuddering breath. Then another. Jane knew this behavior. She was approaching a part of her story that hurt her, angered her. He massaged his fingers over her hands, trying to comfort her. "It's all right, Cherry. Please keep going."

She didn't speak. Instead a single tear slipped down her cheek. "He never knew her," she whispered. More tears quietly marched after the first. "He was killed. Over nothing. And he never met our baby."

Jane couldn't help himself. He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "What happened, Cherry?"

She sighed. "Tom was getting cookies for Lila. A man came in, pointed a gun at the owner and demanded money. He was crazy, strung out on something. He was screaming. Tom tried to calm him down. He shot Tom in the heart." Cherry choked on a sob and exhaled harshly.

Jane hated this. Why had she put this onus on him? Why had she given him this power over her? It was killing him to see her this sad. He continued to rub her hands in his. He felt awful, but he had to know. "Did you feel vengeful, Cherry?"

She sniffed. "I felt…lazy."

Jane frowned. "Lazy? Cherry, why lazy?"

Her hands went lax in his. "Vengeance. Vengeance is lazy. A lazy form of grief. I grieve for Tom. But when I'm too lazy to grieve, I'm vengeful. Tom would hate it. My girls would suffer. I can't be lazy. I must be strong. For them."

_A lazy form of grief._ Jane had never considered it that way. He'd often heard vengeance called insane, dangerous, destructive, even evil. But lazy? It seemed so much more fitting. It took away all of it's power, made it look small and sniveling like the emotion it really was. He looked at the woman beside him. Her cheeks were damp with tears, her closed eyes trembled with sadness. He needed to end this.

"Cherry, when I tap your knee, you're going to wake up and not remember any of this. You'll feel calm and happy. You'll think of Lila and SoSo and feel warm."

He moved to tap her knee, but stopped. "Cherry, how do you feel about Patrick Jane?"

She smiled wanly through her tears. "Good fashion sense."

He tapped her knee.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jane spent the next hour telling Cherry the story of his previous job, his wife and child, and the man who saw fit to take it all from him. She listened quietly, tucking her feet beneath her and sliding lower into her seat as he continued. Her posture told him she was saddened by his tale, but once again her eyes stayed clear and wide. Only when he mentioned the murder of his daughter did she turn away, hiding her sorrow at the thought of losing a child. He finished his story, then finished his scotch.

"Well," he sighed heavily. "I guess we're even now."

She smiled sadly. "I guess so. I'm so sorry about this, Patrick. I didn't ask you to stay for a drink so that we could depress each other with our tragic pasts. I hope I didn't burden you too badly with mine." Jane patted her leg reassuringly. "Believe me, I understand your wish not to remember. I would have happily taken that option if you were a hypnotist and I was telling you my story."

Cherry chuckled softly. "Sorry. All I have to offer is dancing. I couldn't hypnotize you any more than I could guess what shapes you were thinking of."

"Done," said Jane.

"Done, what?" she asked.

"If all you have to offer is dancing, I'll take it," he smiled wickedly. "How about the pole dance?"

She burst out laughing. "You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious. It's only fair. I involved you in my ability. The least you can do is involve me in yours."

"Totally and utterly different," she said dismissively. "Yours requires a subject. Mine requires a partner."

"Is the pole dance that complicated?" he asked jokingly.

She opened her mouth to speak, then paused. "No, actually. Not for the man. It's far more strenuous than it is complicated."

"What's involved?"

"Well, it's based on the stripper style of pole dancing, except that in our show, the pole is substituted with a man strung up by his arms. There are no steps, in fact he can't move at all or he'll disrupt the woman. His feet are grounded, but he needs a great deal of strength and…self control," she said.

Jane smirked. "Self control?"

She smirked back. "You're a grown man. I assume you've seen a pole dance before."

He continued to smile benignly and said nothing.

"Such a gentleman. But regardless, you can imagine if a woman moved against a man as she did the pole, certain reactions might occur if he's…undisciplined."

As always, Jane's impishness rose to the thought of a challenge. "Then string me up. I'll be a perfect gentleman."

Cherry lowered her head and chuckled at her lap. When she looked up, she gave him a gentle shrug. "If you insist."

Once downstairs in the darkened gym, she gave him a pair of dancer's pants and indicated to a corner. "Please change. And tie the drawstrings tightly. We don't any wardrobe malfunctions."

She turned away from his direction and began a series of deep stretches, lifting her arms and legs up, out, away. Jane stripped out of his shoes and three-piece suit, leaving only his boxers before pulling on the dark cotton pants and pulling the drawstrings tight. Meanwhile, his brain was in the midst of a silent screaming match.

_What the _hell _are you doing?_

_It's just a bit of fun with a fellow mischievous spirit._

_You're half-naked and about to be climbed like a tree!_

_We're all adults here. It's her job, not a come on. _

_It's not _your_ job! What if you react?_

And so forth. But he betrayed none of it as he silently padded back to her. She leaned over and switched on her MP3 player and turned back to him.

"Ropes or handcuffs?" she asked calmly.

Jane blinked. "Pardon?"

"For stringing you up. Would you rather be tied or cuffed?" she explained patiently without a hint of embarrassment.

Jane couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt the slightest bit of color hit his cheeks. "I'll use with whatever you think best."

She nodded and moved at a wall covered with various implements: hooks, cat'o'nine whips, leather collars, silk scarves, blindfolds…and about six different kinds of handcuffs. She chose a set, walked back to him, and without ceremony took his hands and slapped the cuffs over his wrists.

"Too tight?" she asked in a very professional tone.

"Not at all," he answered.

She nodded again and beckoned him over to a hook suspended from a chain in the ceiling. She brought the hook down, slipped the handcuff chain into its crook, then slowly pulled the chain up until his arms were clean over his head and his feet grounded to the gym mat beneath them. Jane realized then that the hook was so deep that he couldn't lift his hands to free himself. He was a prisoner. A half-naked prisoner. Then, and only then, did he begin to question the wisdom of pushing them into this situation. Cherry leaned down to a pot of powdered chalk, slowly covered her hands, and then brought a handful over to where he stood. She looked him dead in the eye and did her damnedest to read his thoughts. "Are you sure?" she whispered to him.

_Say no_, he told himself. _Tell her you're not comfortable with this, that she called your bluff and now you want out. _ He felt his head nod yes. _Goddammit!_

She circled him slowly. She dipped her fingers into the chalk and lightly began coating his back. Jane refused to move. Refused to breathe. She dusted his waist, moving to his side where she continued to lightly cover his skin. He forced his mind to block out the sweet and arousing sensation until suddenly she was in front of him. Her eyes stayed lowered as she splayed her fingers over his chest and stomach, using up the last of her chalk just below his bellybutton. When she finished, she looked up at him. Jane was sure—_sure_—he saw hesitation in her dark eyes. "I guess it's show time," she said.

The MP3 player started her selection. Jane couldn't help but chuckle at her choice. Very appropriate.

_Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a man of wealth…and taste._

"Don't move," she whispered. And suddenly her arms and legs gripped him harshly as she dragged her body down his. Slowly, and to the rhythm. She slid up again, splaying her hands wide across his abdomen, then gripping him by the waist and bending backwards in front of him, grinding their lower bodies together in an erotic circle.

_Pleased to meet you. Hope you guessed my name. _

She was right. The pull of her body against his was excruciating. He dug his heals into the mat and forced his muscles outward to help his body support her. His arms wailed against the drag, but he willed himself to stay strong. She swooped around him, releasing him from her weight for a moment and sliding her hands low across his waist. She was a blur as she whirled around him. Her hands grazed him everywhere. Her legs pulled and rubbed and slithered. Then more pain as she wrapped a leg around him and bent backwards again. Jane gritted his teeth against the pull…and against his own body's answer to her movements. He fought it desperately, that slow, hot build that starts in a man's belly and slowly works its way out. It could NOT get out, he wouldn't permit it. He'd banished it from his body the minute his wife had passed. That feeling belonged to her. No one else. Or so he told himself for the past three years. But suddenly those memories felt ancient. Here and now, in the place with this woman, those feelings seemed like the only reasonable answer to what was happening as Cherry worked her magic. She was so lovely. Her life mirrored his in so many ways. They were both torn pieces of a whole. Their ragged edges would never match perfectly, but they could reach out and build across them. Be whole again. Or try. Her hands continued to explore him, her body so dexterous, and her movements so enticing. He started to lose the physical battle. Then suddenly she appeared in front of his eyes and she stood frozen against his chest. Their gaze met and held for an agonizing four seconds.

_But what's puzzling you is the…nature of my game._

"This was a bad idea," she whispered so low he almost didn't hear her over the music. She didn't move away from him, but she didn't continue her dance either. Instead her hands slowly traced their way up his chest. "I'm hurting you."

Jane leaned towards her, his cuffs clinking as he pulled against the restraints. "I wanted it," Jane whispered back. She lowered her head so he couldn't see her face.

_So if you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, and some taste._

_Use all your well-learned politesse, or I'll lay your soul to waste. _

Tears. Tears fell from her down turned eyes and splashed on the mat at their feet. "I can't do this," she murmured into her chest. "I thought I could, but you..." she stopped. "Not with you."

She turned immediately from him and went to the wall, returning quickly with keys for his cuffs. "Cherry," he said as she loosened the chain. His arms went slack as the hook dropped. She didn't look at him as she took his hands in hers and quickly shoved the tiny key into the left lock. It fell open. Then the right lock. The cuffs dropped into her hands and Jane immediately grabbed her by her shoulders and brought her within two inches of his face.

"Don't hide from me," he whispered harshly.

Her eyes blazed tears and fire. She parried and struck out frantically. "I'm _not _your wife, Patrick," she whispered back.

He gripped her harder as he deflected and struck back. "And I'm _not _your husband."

Another tear slid down her cheek and Jane made his choice. He slipped his hands from her shoulders to her cheeks and brought her full lips to his. Jane swallowed her cry of surprise before she crushed her lips hard against his and brought her arms around his neck, pushing herself fiercely into his bare chest and raking her hands through his curly hair. His hands grabbed her hips and possessively ground them against his own while his tongue forced its way into her mouth and greedily tasted her. She opened helplessly to him and moaned into their kiss, gripping his hair and pulling him harder against her. He broke their kiss and tightened his arms around her while staring fiercely into her eyes. "Where?" he rasped. But her hands were already ripping at the drawstring of his pants, wrenching them open and sliding her hands in. She found him hard and throbbing and he gasped as she gripped him tightly with both hands. "Here," she breathed against his throat. "Right here."

Neither of them could think. They could only violently react. Years of loneliness, grief, sadness, and a complete absence of sex had coiled their bodies up like springs. Every cold night made them a little tighter. Then, they walked into each other's lives, a catalyst for each spring to release spectacularly out of control. This led to one inevitable conclusion.

After mentally sparring with each other on so many occasions, Cherry and Jane attacked each other.

**Deepest apologies to diehard Jisbon fans! Hopefully I'll be forgiven for driving him into the arms of another woman. If, however, people dig this couple, let me know and I'll get a bit more explicit in the next chapter. Oooh, yeah. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13- A Lady**

Rigsby couldn't see his desk in front of him. He couldn't feel the pen in his hand, the keyboard under his fingers, the file he thumbed through. He couldn't hear the normal office bustle of phones and chatter all around him. His senses were failing him. Instead, all he felt was Grace's skin against his hands. All he heard was her voice, her moans, her sobs, begging him. And his eyes gave the worst offense. All they allowed to see was her naked body, spread eagled in front of him. He shook his head violently, ordering his nerve endings and brain synapses to work properly, to quit torturing him with ghost information that he knew wasn't there. It wasn't there now, anyway. In the last three days since Halloween, that delightful information had been processed by his body more times than he ever would have dared hope. Had he known a week ago, a month ago, six months ago, that he'd ever have carnal knowledge of the woman of his dreams, he might have had a heart attack on the spot. Now, instead of being grateful, instead of being sated, his intimacy with Grace had only awakened a sleeping dragon. A dragon that wanted a lot of damn sex. He wasn't eating like he used to. He wasn't sleeping like he used to. All of his thoughts and actions went toward one thing. Grace. Naked.

He looked over at her now as she studied her computer screen and took notes on a steno pad. They'd agreed the other night that they had to stop glancing at each other at work. They couldn't risk getting caught. So he was able to gaze at her knowing she wouldn't return it. His eyes raked down her body. Her hair was loose on her shoulders. Her shirt was low cut and grazed her cleavage. _Bad girl_, he thought. _Wearing such a revealing shirt in front of me_. He could see her legs under her desk. She wore a short black skirt and unusually high heels that could only be described as Fuck Me pumps. _Bad, bad girl._

Just then Sam from narcotics stopped at her desk and handed her a file. She looked up and smiled as she turned her chair to face him. Sam lingered for a moment and said something jokingly to her. She laughed and nodded her head. Rigsby saw his eyes drop briefly to her legs before jumping back up to her eyes. Air rushed into his lungs as fire shot down his biceps and into his fists. He lowered his head and felt his body demand that he vault his desk, tear Sam's throat out with his teeth, then throw Grace up against the wall right there in the bullpen and fuck her, his dead rival at their feet. Those lovely smiles were _his_. That laughter was _his_. And those legs…his possessiveness choked his ability to even think. Sam left Grace's desk and she once again went back to her work. But before she could get back into it, Cho asked from across their space if she'd go get a file from in the basement. She reluctantly agreed, complaining that it would take time to locate it. But she got up anyway and headed for the elevator, her Fuck Me pumps clicking away teasingly. Rigsby waited. He waited for about 45 seconds before he got up like he was heading to the kitchen. Once he was out of sight, he walked right passed it and hit the stairwell, almost running down five flights of stairs to get to the basement. Once in the basement, he smashed his hands against the file storage door and it flew open with a loud BANG! Grace was leaning over a box on the floor, flipping through files, when she jumped at the sound, turning slightly to him while still bent at the waist. She uttered a startled gasp that riled him up even more as he walked straight towards her. How could she be shocked? How could she flaunt her sexy shirt and long legs in front of him and laugh with other men and not expect this?

He grabbed her by her shoulders. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he hissed low, his head lowered to her level.

Her eyes were huge with surprise. "What am I doing to you?" she whispered back.

One hand released her shoulder and stroked brazenly over her breasts, her stomach, then up and under her skirt. Her breath hitched as she pitched forward into him, instantly weak and mewling as his fingers pushed her panties aside and attacked her clit. Her fists gripped his jacket sleeves as she rubbed her body against his.

"You wear this little skirt to work? You wear Fuck Me heels and a tight shirt that all scream at me to take you over my shoulder and drill you against a wall? What were you thinking?" he whispered angrily against her hair.

She looked up at him with eyes so dark and heavy with lust that he was startled. "I was thinking…Maybe I should wear a short skirt and Fuck Me heels and a tight shirt so Wayne will throw me over his shoulder and drill me against the wall."

His fingers slipped inside of her just then and curled inward against her soaking wet walls. She crushed her lips into his shirt and smothered her cries. Rigsby lost it. He ripped her panties clean from her body and yanked her skirt up to her hips. Grace flinched at the ferocity of his movements, but didn't back away. He grabbed her by the back of her thighs and turned violently against the cold cement wall next to them, pinning her back to the freezing surface. She gasped at the collision of temperature on her body, the freezing wall on one side and an enraged hot man on the other. He pinned her up with his hips while his hands tore at his belt and unzipped his fly, pulling aside only the essentials before he freed himself and, without warning, drove deep into her. She sunk her teeth into his neck to keep from screaming as he thrust deliciously hard inside of her.

Rigsby hissed. "That's right, bite me. Only me. I'm the only one allowed to do this. This hot little body," he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. "These sweet little lips," he bruised her mouth with his. "This hot little pussy," he drove upwards desperately as Grace bit his throat again to keep from shouting his name. "Mine, you hear me? _Mine_!" he continued his wonderful attack on her body while keeping her arms pinned, not letting her touch him, not letting her make this sexual act mutual. He was claiming her, marking her, ordering her with his body to love him, want him. Only him. She arched and sobbed quietly and deliriously murmured "Yes" to every claim he made. She whispered frantically under his hissing anger. "Yes, you. Only you. Love you, Wayne. Love you. Please. More. Fuck me. Oh, God, love you. Yes!" She came violently against him, crying out against his lips as her body shook uncontrollably. Rigsby felt her shiver and clench all around him before driving home one final time and coming hard between her soft thighs. His lungs froze with a silent scream that he couldn't let loose. He spasmed against her, slowly coming down from his dizzying jealousy and lust. She ran her hands over his shoulders and neck gently, soothingly. His forehead pressed against hers as they both panted for air. He brought his arms around her back and pulled her from the wall, hugging her gently to him and kissing her lips lovingly. Their bodies were still joined as he held her to him, trying to bring some sweetness into this violent coupling.

"Did I hurt you?" he whispered.

She smiled and brushed her lips against his. "Never," she whispered back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I just wanted--,"

"Me?" she smiled teasingly. He smiled back and hugged her tighter. "Yes, you. Only you. Always you."

He gently lowered her to her feet and went about adjusting her clothes, pulling her skirt down and smoothing out her top. He turned her around in his arms, making sure he hadn't torn any fabric. She closed her eyes and sighed. She adored him. His fire, his jealousy, his sweetness, his love. Even at his angriest, she couldn't get enough of him. Rigsby was now seeing to his own clothing, tucking in his shirt, zipping up his fly, buckling his belt. He bent down and picked up her panties from the floor, ripped and ruined by his own hands. Black lace. He hadn't even seen them in his craze to get to her. She held her hand out for them, but he stuffed them into his pocket.

"No use to you now," he informed her.

"So what? You're going to keep them in your pocket? Why?" she hugged him around his ribcage, making a playful attempt to pull them out of his pants.

He trapped her hands against his side and brought his face to hers, kissing her nose. "They're mine now. You have to sit for the rest of the day and remember how you lost them."

Grace shuddered against him and nodded. Well, they _were _ruined, right? She turned from his arms and picked up the file she'd located for Cho just before she'd been interrupted.

"We have to go back," she said without turning. She felt a hand press warmly against the small of her back. "Ladies first."

She snorted. "I hardly think a lady would allow herself to being fucked against the basement wall at work," she whispered to her escort. She could already feel their come trickling down her inner thigh, sending erotic shivers down her back.

She heard him chuckle behind her as they walked to the elevator. "They must. Because the finest lady in the world just did."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14- Lure**

Jane felt the whole thing transpire from his couch and smiled softly to himself. The minute Grace walked in dressed to kill that morning , he'd guessed her intentions immediately and silently congratulated her on her growing courage. She knew she'd drive Rigsby crazy, just like she knew traipsing down to the basement (and mentioning that it would take awhile) would give him an opportunity to act on it. He sighed. He was very pleased for them. Rigsby finally had his heart's greatest desire and Grace was with a man she felt safe with, safe enough to torment in skimpy clothes and know his strongest reaction would be passion, not force.

He turned into his couch, facing the overstuffed cushion. Now if only he could work out his own romantic problem so easily. He closed his eyes. The other night with Cherry had been…nice. Okay, so nice was totally inadequate. Sexually, she'd blown his brains out. Their first time had been desperate and rough, nearly mauling each other as their atrophied sex drives suddenly exploded to life again. Their second (and third…and fourth) time had been softer, sweeter, but still every bit as wonderful. She amazed him. Her years of twisting and writhing on poles and people was put to good use. Her thighs had nearly crushed his pelvis. Her legs had twisted in ways that bones shouldn't be allowed to twist. And her inner muscles had fluttered and squeezed him until he thought he'd scream with rapture. And he did. But it was more than that. She'd held him, stroked him, called his name over and over. _Patrick_. She could have kept it impersonal, used the classic fillers like 'baby' and 'sweetie', but she didn't. Neither did he. He'd done even worse, calling out 'Cherry Jane' during their third tumble across the mat. She'd looked up at him in surprise, but quickly kissed his lips and wrapped her arms around his back, accepting the use of her middle name/Freudian use of his name.

Afterwards as she lay on his chest, she chuckled lightly as she traced his muscles. "What is it?" he asked softly.

She looked up and rested her chin on his ribs. "Just giggling to myself. Thinking about how three poor CBI agents have been lured in and attacked by three dancers in my house."

Jane laughed. "Hardly. Grace owned Rigsby's heart from Day One. Cho didn't put up much of a fight. That only leaves me, and while I'll admit you lured me in with your wiles and attacked me, I'm not an agent. So you see? Nothing to worry about."

Cherry punched him lightly under his chin. "_Me_?! _My _wiles? I've never met a man as wily as you. You stroll into my house, all cocky and smug, charming your way in and giving me a line about my Halloween party under investigation. I did nothing but sit politely."

He laughed again. "What do you mean 'charmed my way in'? You said yourself that it was Rigsby who got us in. That burlesque dancers are immune to my charm. Are you admitting that I did indeed charm you? For the record, please, Miss Cherry?"

Cherry smiled her huge smile that she saved for Grace and her girls before she dropped a kiss on his chest. "I admit no such thing," she replied loftily. She went still for a minute before speaking again. "So how did you guess Lila's shapes?"

He smiled. "Magic," he whispered dramatically.

That had been the night before last. She'd seen him to the door and they hadn't spoken since. Jane wasn't sure why, but he didn't know what to do and inaction seemed the most prudent course of action. But he was never alone. She clouded his thoughts. She invaded his dreams. And images of her with her girls came unbidden and warmed him. Calmed him. He supposed it had to do with the male prerogative of wanting to protect and care for women and children. His heartstrings tugged at the thought of those bright little eyes and he was drawn to them just as he was drawn to their mother. But where did that leave him? What was he supposed to do with all of this? He exhaled and settled deeper into his couch.

Just then Grace and Rigsby appeared and took their seats at their desks. Jane wasn't facing them, but he almost heard their satisfaction as they settled in and went back to work. He heard Grace pass a file to Cho and Cho mumbled his thanks. Maybe that was it, he thought. Maybe he should ask Grace. She'd know what he should do. Granted, that meant he'd have to tell her (vaguely) what happened, but Cherry may have told her already. Yes, that was it. He'd ask Grace. Just as soon as she came down from the post-coital bliss he knew she was reveling in.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15- Broken**

An hour later Grace was starting intently at her computer screen when Jane sat on the edge of her desk and knocked on the hard surface, as if knocking on a door. "Can I buy you lunch, Grace?" he asked lightly. She looked up at him quizzically from her work. "Why? What's up?"

Jane smiled. "Can't a man buy his colleague a sandwich without a reason?" He put on his mock hurt face. It hadn't worked with Cherry. It didn't fly with Grace either. "Not when it's you," she deadpanned. "Unless of course, there's something you and I need to talk about," she left her statement hanging in such a way that left Jane in no doubt. She and Cherry had talked. Drat. Well, okay. It saved him from having to explain too much.

"Woman, just get your purse and let's go. Name your eatery and we'll go there," he said.

She smiled a Cheshire cat smile. Perhaps she and her sister had more in common than he originally thought. "All right."

She got her purse, then went to Rigsby and whispered something in his ear. He looked up at her in surprise, but nodded with a smirk. Jane watched Rigsby as he watched Grace walk back to him. Rigsby really, _really _needed to work on his shameless gazing at his secret girlfriend. It was getting embarrassing for everyone who had to pretend they didn't see it. Namely him. And Cho. Even the FedEx guy.

Grace chose a deli down the street and they quickly ordered, sat outside, and got down to business. "First," Jane began. "You and Rigsby are ridiculously obvious and you need to stop ogling each other from your desks and jumping on each other in every semi-private place you can find. Second," he smiled as she coughed on her coke. "I need your help with Cherry."

Grace pressed her napkin into her lips, composing herself, before replying. "First, your advice is duly noted," she smiled into her plate. "And appreciated. We'll tone it down, I promise. Second," she looked up at him playfully. "Seen any good pole dances lately?"

Jane couldn't help the laugh that bubbled in his throat. He and Grace grinned at each other knowingly. Oh, this was fun.

"Fine, fine. I'm a shameless cad. The question is what do I do now?" he asked.

Grace watched him thoughtfully. He almost thought she wasn't going to answer him, but she instead she said quietly. "I honestly don't know. I never would have guessed that you two would ever date again, much less each other. You're both so…" she didn't finish. Jane smiled and cocked an eyebrow at her. "We're both so…?"

She looked at him squarely. "You're both so broken."

His expression melted into a serious frown. He didn't respond and she didn't press it. Instead she addressed his original question.

"I think you should go see her. Tonight. She and the girls will be at the house after six. You should take them out for dinner," she said.

Jane smiled again, glad to move on from her rather observant comment. He was also contemplating the fact that Cherry didn't date either. He'd have to ask Grace about that later. "You think she'll agree?"

Grace smiled back. "I think once the girls see you, she'll have a hard time telling them no. They were both quite taken with you."

He gave a small laugh. "Magic tricks always get the ladies." He paused and became serious again. "Is she angry with me? For not calling her?"

His guilty expression warmed Grace's heart. Maybe. Just maybe…

"I think she's confused. Like you. But I know that she wants to see you. She's been distracted these last few days. Cherry is never distracted. And she's smiling a lot. Her real smile."

Jane understood perfectly. Her _real_ smile, not her stage smile. The thought of that smile on her lips caused his chest to tighten. Those lips. He tried not to think of what they had done to him while sitting across from their owner's sister. How they had moved over his body, pulling, sucking, licking. He failed and felt a slight stir behind his zipper. He covertly pinched his wrist to get some control on himself.

"All right. I'll go over tonight," he got up and stretched before holding out his hand to help her to her feet. "And Grace?" he asked. "Don't tell her I'm coming."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night Grace snuggled deeper into the sheltered warmth of Rigsby's arms and sighed contentedly. After work, they'd decided to take a break from the House and actually hang out in one of their own apartments. His, as it turned out. Grace had been over once or twice to pick him up, but had never had a proper look around. As he cooked dinner—which he insisted he do for her—she'd wandered through his neat, Spartan little world. It was very clean, which surprised her. It was very utilitarian, which did not. Aside from a few photographs, every single piece of furniture and household item bespoke function, not décor. Weights, punching bag, kitchen appliances, huge tv, huge stereo, bookcases overflowing, writing desk, leather sofa, barstools, and one king size bed. She smiled to herself. This was _his _home. And despite its lack of beauty, it certainly had its charms.

Rigsby was behaving differently after their encounter in the storage room. His manner, which had always been sweet, was bordering on sugary. He seemed to _need_ to touch her every few minutes: hugging her gently, stroking her arms, caressing her hair, kissing her forehead. She smiled and hummed with happiness at his ministrations, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. He seemed to be avoiding all the areas of interest to him earlier that day. He hadn't touched her breasts, her ass, her legs, or the pantyless expanse under her short skirt. Now it was after dinner and they lay on his bed, fully clothed, and Rigsby was continuing his loving barrage, spooned against her back and gently holding her to him, her bare legs nestled against the fabric of his pants. She turned in his arms and looked up at him. For the millionth time she was struck by just how much she loved the blue eyes staring back at her.

"Any special reason for all the cuddles, Agent Rigsby?" she asked as she traced her fingers across his five o'clock shadow. The dark stubble scrapped lightly under her smooth tips. He smiled and nuzzled his lips against her hand.

"Not really. I just want to make sure you're okay," he answered. She gave him a quizzical squint. "Yes, I'm okay. Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

Rigsby lowered his eyes from her in a way that made Grace slightly nervous. He looked…guilty. When he raised his eyes back up, she brought her arm up around his back and gave him a reassuring squeeze. "Wayne, what is it? You've been acting different ever since this afternoon."

He inhaled quickly. He felt her squeeze him again and his heart squeezed as well. Would she be angry if he confessed his worry? He gazed into her eyes. Copper eyes. Eyes that only had to glance his way and they cut him off at the knees. _God_, he loved this woman. His entire being begged him to stay in this bed with her forever, wrapped in her arms, in her body, in her love. But his actions today had plagued him. He'd let his baser instincts take over and now he was terrified that Grace might be thinking of another instance in her life, another man who didn't know how to control himself. His soul quaked at the thought. She was looking at him expectantly. He took a deep breath and plunged.

"I'm just worried that today I might have been too…rough with you," he said.

Graced smiled and gave a small laugh. "In the basement? Hardly. Is that what's got you all fuzzy and protective of me?"

He looked down again. "Grace? I know. I know about…that guy. The cornerback. When you were younger."

Grace's smile died on her face. Rigsby ventured a glance and instantly wanted to kill himself. He'd hurt her by saying that. Oh God, please strike him dead. He dropped his eyes again while Grace composed herself enough to speak.

"Cherry. She told you, didn't she?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. "Yeah. Please don't be angry with her."

Grace shuddered and he felt the vibrations pass through his arms. He tightened them around her, willing her to feel safe. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Her eyes were shiny as she looked up at him. To his infinite surprise, she smiled. "So you're worried that, because you 'accosted' me down in the basement, you're like Kevin?"

He nodded again, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you so much, Gray. So much that I worry I'll lose control. That I'll hurt you. That maybe I already have." He pulled her flush against him and inhaled deeply, taking in her enticing scent and burying himself in her body heat. He held her desperately and begged silently for her forgiveness.

His desperation turned to agony as she pulled his arms away and got up from the bed. His gut twisted and his brain cried out in panic. He'd been right all along. He was too much like this Kevin bastard and Grace could never fully trust him. Hell, he didn't even trust himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and ordered his tears to retreat and not to cross the threshold onto his cheeks. He held his breath, listening for the sound of her feet walking away, of her keys jangling, of the door closing. Instead he only heard the muffled sound of fabric rustling. "Wayne, look at me."

He opened his eyes and moaned at the sight that awaited him. Grace stood at the side of the bed, totally naked. He felt his body tighten instinctively as his blood pressure spiked and his skin went hot. He was furious at his lack of control, but that didn't stop the lust from brimming over in his eyes. She stared at him for a long time before slowly—slowly—a smile crossed her lovely lips. "What do you see?"

He couldn't answer her question. He didn't understand the language she spoke. Her naked body always did that to him. He knew he could see it a million times and never have the mental capacity to do anything but stare and want. Her smile grew bigger at his wide eyes and open mouth. "What do you see?"

"You," he whispered hoarsely. "God, you're so beautiful."

She reached over and took his hands, tugging them until he pulled himself up to a sitting position at the side of the bed. She nudged his legs open and stood between them, her perfect breasts just inches away from his face. She led his hands to her body, cupping them to her waist, just above the agonizingly beautiful flare of her hips. "Am I bruised?" she asked him.

His hands betrayed his command to stay still and gently traveled along her waist, his thumbs tracing along her stomach. He couldn't help it as one playfully dipped into her bellybutton.

"No," he said.

Grace raised her left leg and levered her foot onto his knee, giving him an incredibly intimate view of his favorite place on earth. "And here? Do you see any bruising? Abrasions? Signs of force?"

He winced at her clinical terminology, but as his fingers moved lower and gently explored her, he admitted to himself that he couldn't find the slightest hint of sexual trauma.

Grace studied him, watching his eyes as they flitted from concerned boyfriend to impersonal cop as he examined her. She was very upset that her past was suddenly common knowledge, but Rigsby's anxiety about hurting her as Kevin did had to be extinguished immediately. She would never _ever_ let him think he was anything like the fucker she'd left behind in Iowa. Her mind raged at the very thought of his name. For, despite Kevin's large body, he'd been a small person. A bully. Picking on little people to make himself feel powerful. When he'd hit her, she could see that mixed within his rage, there had been glee. He had enjoyed it. Looking at Wayne now, Grace's heart beat with fierce determination and an insanely protective love. _His _large body only conveyed kindness. His actions only sweetness. And his loss of control would always be mutual when it came to them as a couple. She forbade him to think anything else.

"Well?" she prodded gently. He looked up at her as he gently nudged her leg down again and hugged her around her thighs. "Nothing," he said.

She kneeled, still wedged between his legs. Her hands slid up his thighs as she gazed into his worried frown. "Today in the basement, if I'd asked you to stop, would you have?"

Rigsby didn't hesitate. "Instantly."

She held his gaze. "And if, right now, I asked you not to pursue me, to just be my friend and never show any outward sign of interest for me again, would you do it?"

His expression almost killed her. It was as if the happiness in his heart was struck down through his eyes. But she held his gaze. She needed to make him see.

"Yes," he whispered.

She brought her hands to his face and tugged him down to her, placing a soothing kiss on his lips and trailing her fingers through his hair. "Then you'll never be like him, baby. Never ever," she smiled against his lips. "I dressed this way today _for you_. I went into the basement and waited _for you_. And seeing you that aroused turned me on _so _much. Feeling you overpower me and take me was heaven. Yes, it was rough. We wanted it rough. _We. Us_. We trust each other, respect each other, and there's nothing you can do to me that would make me afraid of you."

Rigsby slowly brought her hand from his hair and kissed her palm. "I meant what I said today. You have no idea what you do to me. Love you so much," he murmured into her hand.

She smiled and stroked his cheek. "Would you like me to show you how much I love you?" she asked as she pulled him to his feet. He obeyed instantly and stood up beside her. She locked her arms around his neck, stood on her tiptoes and brought his lips to hers. She gasped into their kiss as the coldness of his badge on his belt pressed into her belly. "Cold," she murmured against his lips. "Need your skin."

She undressed him slowly for the first time. Usually their exploits were so hurried and desperate that they simply stripped themselves before throwing their bodies against each other. Now Grace forced herself to take the time to do it properly. He had already taken off his jacket and tie when they got home, so she started with his shirt buttons. Rigsby watched from his higher vantage as she went about her task. When she pulled his shirt from his waistband, he felt his entire lower half fill with liquid fire at the sensation. She raised her eyes to his as she put her hands inside his shirt and pushed it from his shoulders. The sight of his body stole her breath. It really did. Standing in a tee shirt, his dense muscles pushed at the white fabric that held his arms, chest and back. So, so strong, this man. Her hands snaked under the hem and wandered up his tight abdomen.

"You are a sight to behold, Wayne," she whispered smilingly as her hands moved further up his torso. "You really can make a girl go weak at the knees."

He responded by reaching to his back, grabbing his shirt by the scruff and yanking it over his head, revealing his upper body to her in all of its glory. He put his hands over hers on his chest. "There's only one girl I want weak at the knees."

Grace giggled and pressed her breasts into him as she reached up for another kiss. Rigsby moaned low and harsh in his throat as his hands slid down her sides, stopping briefly at their soft swells. Her hands tugged at his belt and zipper and before Rigsby could register what happened, she was sucking on his tongue just as her hands closed firmly over his pulsing cock. How? _How_ did this woman do this to him? She pushed his pants and boxers off his hips and down his legs before moving back into his arms and pressing herself hard against him, seeking his kiss again. He gave it to her, greedily pulling at her lower lip and sliding his tongue against hers. His erection pressed impatiently against her stomach and she broke their kiss and giggled again.

She looked up at him impishly. "Do you trust me?"

He blinked and didn't think. "Always."

She pressed her stomach hard against his cock and won a groan from him. "What if I want something a bit…kinky."

He blinked again and didn't think. "Anything."

She batted her eyes at him before reaching to the floor for his pants and unhooking his handcuffs from his belt. She then grabbed her skirt and pulled her cuffs from them as well. She stood up, dangling the two cuff sets from her index finger and arching her brow suggestively. "Sooooo, if I wanted to cuff you to your headboard and have my wicked way with you, you wouldn't object?"

The throb between Rigsby's legs intensified tenfold. It nearly struck him down with agonizing bliss and he rocked slightly where he stood. Grace wanted to tie him down and fuck him? Wanted his arms spread wide and helpless while she tortured his body with hers? Oh God, torture never sounded so sweet. Without a word he turned and climbed onto his bed. The headboard consisted of heavy metal railings with posts on all four corners. The posts were slim at the base, but wide at the top. If she cuffed him, he wouldn't be able to escape unless he ripped the bed frame to pieces. He settled on his back and held his arms out wide. "Do it," he said.

She sauntered over to him and slapped one bracelet over his wrist, then brought up to the first post and slapped the second cuff to the slim base. She walked around and did the same to the other side. She straightened up and looked down at the powerful, helpless man before her. She smiled a Cheshire cat smile. Rigsby smiled back. "Now you have me, what do you plan to do with me?"

She continued to smile. "You? Oh, I don't plan to do anything to you," she leaned down to his ear and whispered. "I'm going to lay at the bottom of your bed and make you watch _me_."

He gasped into her hair and his wrists instantly clanged against the posts as he pulled against the restraints. "You wouldn't."

She leaned back and smiled wickedly. She quietly thanked God his bed was big enough and she eased onto the end of the mattress and settled herself against the footboard, which was also metal and slatted. She gasped at the coldness of it. It was very comfortable, but it would suffice. She looked at Rigsby as she propped her feet on the bed and opened her legs wide for him, showing him everything. She was only a foot away from his legs, but with his hands bound, she might as well have been on Mars. His eyes were huge. Black. Hungry. Grace scooted forward an inch, hoping it gave him a better view.

Without saying a word, she slowly moved her hands to her breasts. She circled them slowly, as she tried to relax with such an intense audience staring so avidly. Her nipples hardened under her touch and she closed her eyes and sighed. Rigsby moaned, causing her to look up at him. She smiled shyly.

"You know that I never really used to do this," she whispered to him. His gaze followed one of her hands as it left her breast and trailed down her torso. "It never really appealed to me," she continued. Her hand stroked slowly up and down her thigh, soft skin on soft skin. Rigsby pulled harder against his cuffs. The metal clang was louder this time and caused Grace to utter a little moan of desire. Her hand drifted. Closer. Closer. It grazed across her and her hips jumped a fraction. Her eyes wandered shut again. Rigsby hissed lustfully.

"But these last few months, I've started doing this a lot," she whispered. Her fingers found her clit and she gasped. "I started fantasizing," her voice was breathy, soft. Her fingers worked her clit in slow circles while her other hand caressed her breast. "At first I thought I just needed sex," she said. Circles. Caresses. A little moan of pleasure. "But I soon realized…there was only one fantasy…that…worked." She broke off and moaned louder as her hands moved faster.

Rigsby never fully understood what it was to be tortured until tonight. Now he was fucking Tantalus. A starving man forced to stare at ripe fruit just out of reach. Dying of thirst and having the water retreat from his grasp. As Grace continued to pleasure herself, he yanked again at the cuffs and roared his frustration. His cock was furious, receiving information from his eyes yet not being able to act on it. He was huge, harder and larger than he'd ever been. He'd never been so turned on in his life and they weren't even touching each other. He roared again, his whole body reaching for her as she sobbed with pleasure at his reaction.

Her hand was a blur of motion now as she fast approached her orgasm. "Oh, God," she whispered. "The only thought that works is you. Your hands on me. Your mouth on me. You thrusting into me," she cried out as she hit a sensitive spot and called his name. "You were all I could see. Wayne. Oh God. You were all I wanted. You…just…you…oh, God!" She ripped her hands from her body and screamed. "NO!"

She scrambled from her position against the foot board. She clawed her way up his body, straddled his hips and positioned his raging cock at her dripping entrance. "Can't come now. Need you," she whispered and impaled herself on him. She screamed again. He roared again. His arms raged against the cuffs so hard that the entire bed frame groaned. Her walls constricted around him as she came hard and sobbing. He thrust up into her from below, enraged that he couldn't touch her, couldn't clamp his fingers around her waist, couldn't pull her to him and swallow her cries in a kiss he so badly needed. His frustration, coupled with Grace's private show and her squeezing him so fiercely, made for the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life. He exploded up into her as her body continued to milk him mercilessly. His scream shook the air as her name ripped from his lungs.

He barely felt her as she collapsed onto his chest. Their lungs gasped for air and their hearts fought to be closer to each other as they pounded against their ribs. The top of her head grazed his chin and he was finally able to kiss her, even if it was only her hair. He breathed in her lovely scent and it instantly soothed him. His Grace. Wrapped around him, gasping for air after an orgasm that _he_ gave her. Rigsby swallowed and exhaled harshly as he finally won the battle for enough air. He nuzzled his lips against her red locks. "Baby?" he whispered.

She slowly lifted her head and looked him through her post-coital haze. He smiled tenderly. "Let me hold you."

She nodded slightly drunkenly and lifted herself from him, taking with her all of the warmth and softness he loved so much. She fumbled for the keys on their clothes before coming back and releasing his hands on either side. She tossed the keys on the bedside table and immediately crawled back into his arms. The warmth and softness instantly returned to him and he growled contentedly as he stroked her back.

He brought his lips to her ear. "You will pay for that, sweetheart."

She looked up at him groggily. "For what?"

"You nearly killed me just now. Coming and calling my name when I can't even touch you. I'm just letting you know. I will get you back," he hugged her tighter against him.

Her eyelids drooped and she smiled a lazy smile at him before dropping her head back to his chest. He almost didn't hear her challenge. "Big talk, mister."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16- Wicked Little Girls**

_I should just get my own key for as often as I come over here. _Jane knocked on the House door and was greeted by Jackson this time. It was just after six and the handsome dancer was heading home for the night. He smiled softly as he appraised the blonde man on the steps.

"Mr. Jane. You've been much missed," he said kindly.

Jane smiled in return. "Is she here?"

Jackson nodded as he stepped out, leaving the door open. "In the practice hall. The girls are there too." Jackson went to leave, then hesitated and turned back.

"I urge you to be good to them, Mr. Jane. Cherry is our family and all of us helped raise those kids. If you hurt them…" His demeanor wasn't threatening, but his meaning was clear.

The two men regarded each other carefully before Jane nodded. When it was clear they understood each other, Jackson nodded back and said good night. Jane went in and did his best to remember the way to the practice hall.

It didn't take him long. Music wafted through the hallways and guided him to the open door of that cavernous space. He slipped in quietly and found a scene that stole his heart. The song playing was spooky, like the jazz from Halloween night, but also slightly R&B. The chorus kept repeating 'Wicked Little Girls'.

Cherry, Lila and SoSo were alone. They were dressed in long ballet skirts and slippers. They were laughing and dancing.

_Don't you play with those wicked little girls_

_Kiss the boys and make them cry_

Their dancing was unstructured and light. They jumped and skittered and pirouetted and waltz stepped in every direction. The little girls were clearly students of the art, as their movements bespoke skill, but their teacher was obviously encouraging their silly freeform antics.

_You better keep an eye on your boys and lock'em up tight. _

Lila, older than her sister and having inherited her aunt's coltish legs, was particularly agile. As she giggled and whirled and leapt through the air, Jane couldn't help but chuckle quietly with her. SoSo, younger and less developed, might have had some catching up to do, but her enthusiasm matched Lila's step for step.

Jane had never much cared for ballet. He found it too studied, too stiff and joyless, even in it's most expressive moments. His wife had enjoyed it immensely. It appealed to her love of the classics. The Nutcracker Suite had been a yearly tradition as a family, and since his women loved it so much, he gladly went along with it. Now, he felt a strange sense a betrayal watching these new women in his life. They were performing the same dance style his wife had always pressed him to give a chance, and here he was, instantly in love with this little troupe of R&B ballet rebels.

Cherry made him feel the worst. She wore a simple skirt and slippers like her girls, using every alluring step in her arsenal of ballet training to be just as silly as her children. She laughed just as loud, jumped with as much alacrity and whirled with the same abandon. She arched and lifted with such grace that Jane almost missed her slight wince when she went up on point and quickly came back down. Her ankle. She recovered and swooped low to the ground, crouching before lifting up again and wiggling her hips in a cute moment of R&B funk. Her girls laughed at her move and instantly mimicked it.

The song came to an end and Cherry started to clap her hands happily.

"Perfect! Absolutely perfect!" she beamed as her girls gave her very solemn and deep curtsies before jumping up again and laughing at their game. Cherry gave them both monster hugs. "I'm afraid I can't choose winner for today's Ridiculous Dance Contest. You're both just too good."

"You _always_ say that," Lila pouted. "You _never _choose a winner."

Cherry kissed Lila's forehead. "It's not my fault that I have such cool kids."

Lila smiled against her wishes and huffed off to the corner to get her backpack.

"Patrick!" SoSo's voice echoed through the room and Cherry turned to the door, her eyes widening at the man standing quietly in the frame.

"_Patrick!_" Lila's voice joined the echo of her sister's and they sped across the room, skidding a halt in front of him.

"Will you guess my shapes again?"

"My mommy says you're magic. Is that true?"

"Have you come to see us?"

"Did you bring Wayne with you?"

Jane felt sublime warmth bubble up in his chest as he dropped to his knees and petted each girl's head. "I promise I'll guess your shapes later. Yes, I'm magic. Yes, I've come to see you and no, Wayne isn't with me. He's with your aunt Grace tonight. Any other questions from you wicked little girls?"

"That's our song!" chirped SoSo, eyes bright at his reference.

"I know, I heard." Jane was trying not to notice that Cherry hadn't moved from her spot on the dance floor, nor was he trying to notice how her face was still frozen in surprise and not pleasure at seeing him.

"Girls?" she called from the floor. "Go get dressed and then go to your playroom. I need to talk to Patrick for a minute, okay?"

"Are you gonna kiss?" SoSo asked Jane. He looked at Cherry and couldn't fathom the answer. She looked so serious.

"Now, please," she instructed. The girls made noises of annoyance as they gathered their stuff and left the hall.

Jane turned to watch them leave. As he slowly turned back he began to apologize. "Cherry, I--," was as far as he got.

Cherry had launched herself across the room. She threw him up against the wall and leapt into his arms with violent urgency as she cupped his cheeks and fused her mouth to his. Only one second was wasted on shock before Jane gripped her thighs and hiked her higher up on his waist, spinning them around and pushing her against the wall as he reacquainted himself with the delicious taste of her that he'd been craving for two straight days. She moaned into his mouth and dragged her nails up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. The sensation had him purring like a cat under her touch.

She pulled him back by his hair, forcing him to look at her as the panted for air.

"Do you have any idea…" She ground her hips into his and felt him spring to life behind his zipper.

"…what it's like to dance with a dozen men and only see _your_ face?" A small hand slithered between them and cupped him firmly. He groaned at the pleasurable discomfort growing there.

"It's excruciating." She whispered into his ear before licking his lobe. An even softer whisper. "I missed you."

Jane pulled his head back and initiated a slower, softer kiss. His hands stroked her thighs on either side of his waist before traveling north over her arms and tracing her cheeks with his fingers. "I'm sorry I didn't come before now," he sighed against their kiss. She held his head sweetly and shook her head slowly, her lips moving back and forth over his.

"I needed the time too. To process, I think," she said.

Jane really wondered now if they were just _that _similar, or if they could read each other's minds _that _well. She wasn't mad at him. She wasn't feeling abandoned or rejected. She had wanted time too. Thank God. He didn't think he was strong enough emotionally to see this woman truly angry with him yet. Looking at this heartbreaker in his arms and imagining her in a glorious fury convinced him that—no matter what the argument—he'd fold like a house of cards. He'd fight back, sure. He was still Patrick Jane and had a reputation to uphold, after all. But Cherry would win in the end. He knew it.

"Have dinner with me. The girls too. Please?" He traced the widow's peak in her hairline as the question came out without thinking. He couldn't help pressing his lips to hers again while he waited for an answer.

"_Eeeeeeew_! They're kissing!"

"Told ya!"

Impish little voices startled them both and Cherry instantly broke their kiss and released his waist, sliding down his body to stand on the floor. They turned and saw two nosey and adorable heads poking out from the door, staring at them with obvious distaste.

Cherry desperately smoothed out her skirt and gave a choked chuckle. "What have I told you girls about eavesdropping?"

Jane waited for their invariable answer containing something about right and wrong and downright rude.

"Never get caught?" Lila answered.

Jane roared with laughter. "Seriously? That's what you told them?"

Cherry, still blushing, gave him a 'duh' look. "Everyone eavesdrops. No point in telling them not to. Just how to do it properly."

Delightful.

Jane turned to the little girls and gave them his most charming smile. "Who's hungry?"

"Memememe!" They both chorused in unison.

"What do _wicked_ little girls usually like to eat?" he asked in a conspiratorial tone.

"Pizza!"

"Spaghetti!"

"Mexican!"

"Mommy likes Ties!"

"Thai, baby," Cherry corrected SoSo. "It's just one tie. Thai food."

Jane turned to her. "How about Italian? That should fix them for spaghetti and pizza."

Cherry, who never gave her answer on his dinner invitation formally, ducked her head and smiled before returning his gaze. "Italian would be great."

Cherry left them to go change while he entertained the girls with his shape-guessing and stealing their hairpins and bracelets without them noticing. They always shrieked with delight when he produced an item of theirs from his pocket, insisting he do it over and over again. When Cherry reappeared, he dutifully gave back all of their finery and escorted them out of the House. On the way to the restaurant he tried desperately not to feel so happy and complete at the thought of wicked little girls whirling in the air, stealing kisses from their mother, and food made of ties.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17- Mistaken Identity**

_Too good. Too unbelievably, damn good._ Jane lay wide awake, his head spinning in pure delirium as he traced circles on the shoulder of the woman responsible for his current mental state. She slept peacefully at his side, her skin warm and supple beneath his fingers. As his fingertips moved along her spine and ribs, he thought about how none of her body was virgin territory to him. There wasn't anywhere he hadn't touched, hadn't kissed, hadn't tasted. He was certain that under a special Patrick Jane UV light, scientists would see his essence of every strand of her hair and every millimeter of her skin. She would glow bright blue with no interruption. She'd be visible from space. That's how thoroughly he had explored his lover. And yet he felt like he'd only just begun. She seemed to evolve everyday, her features becoming even softer, even more beautiful, than the day before, and he'd have to start his discovery anew. Her eyes, which had watched him so warmly at dinner, had been a deep chocolate brown at the time. But after they came back to the house and put the girls to bed, she'd led him to her room where her eyes kaleidoscoped from the color of 100-proof whiskey to black coffee. They said nothing as they undressed each other and fell into bed. They hadn't spoken at all since the waitress had spoken to them at dinner.

"Such pretty little things!" She had cooed as Lila and SoSo colored on their kids' mats. They both looked up and smiled at the nice lady.

"If you girls are good and eat your dinner, maybe Mom and Dad will let you have ice cream for dessert?" The girls cheered at the mention of ice cream and didn't bother correcting her about Jane being their father. Jane's chest tightened as he gave the waitress a small smile and ventured a "Maybe" to the girls.

He checked his peripherals to see Cherry's reaction to his pretend-parenting and found her smiling into her napkin as she padded her lips. She said nothing, merely reached under the table and squeezed his thigh reassuringly. The whole evening was extremely pleasant, fun even, and Jane had to admit to himself that being with this little family of little women calmed him in a way he wasn't sure he wanted to be calmed.

He looked down at the top of Cherry's head on his chest. As if sensing his gaze, she murmured, hugging him tighter and bringing her knee up to his waist. His hand snaked down and anchored her slim thigh to him. As he caressed it, he couldn't help but admire its beauty. She had stunning legs, the kind of legs that men took one look at and secretly wished were wrapped around their bodies. Her entire body had that effect. Her lips were meant to be kissed every single hour. Her heart-shaped face was meant to be cupped in masculine hands. Her breasts…well. Men would betray their own countries if access to her breasts was the reward for their treachery. But of all of her attributes, it was her back that destroyed Jane. Naked and glowing in the darkness, Cherry had risen from their bed to retrieve a glass of water and Jane watched her back as she went. The soft lines of her shoulders would curve down to her slim arms, into her delicate ribs before her hourglass figure flared out again at her hips. In its set was a loveliness, an unconscious vulnerability and sadness, that filled his heart with an insane urge to pull her back into his arms and lock her in. Her back would stay warm and protected against his chest, his arms crossed at her waist, his chin hooked over her shoulder, and there he would keep her for the rest of their lives. No more sadness, no more loneliness. Just two people, warm and happy and safe.

He exhaled slowly. This was his punishment for falling for a burlesque dancer, he supposed. A woman so alluring on so many levels was bound to—wait, what? Falling? Is that what he just thought? He was falling for her? No. No, that wasn't it. They were just…you know. Insanely attracted to each other. They sought comfort and solace in each other. Right? They had so much in common, including sexual compatibility. Surely.

Jane's rational mind panicked and began spewing all of these possibilities while his heart quietly whispered the truth. _Yes, you're falling for her._

His thoughts roiled and collided as truth and panic zinged around in his skull like a pinball. It was too soon. He barely knew her. It wasn't right. It wasn't meant to happen this way. What about his wife and daughter? What about his anger? His happiness with Cherry was a betrayal of everything he stood for.

_Lazy…_

His heart mocked him.

_Afraid…_

He shut his eyes, hoping to block it out. No, this was going too far. He couldn't be falling for the woman in his arms. He couldn't allow it. Grace had said it, they were both too broken. They couldn't be happy together. Commiseration and solace weren't enough to build a life together. Neither was fantastic sex. No, he'd say something in the morning. He'd explain how he felt, as best he could. He thought he'd wanted to move on, he really did, but it wasn't supposed to be this easy. It wasn't supposed to be this…wonderful.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18- Run**

She knew something was wrong. From the moment she'd awoken and found him sitting on the side of her bed looking vacantly out the window, she knew. His back was hunched and turned away from her. The set of his shoulders was tight and defensive. He was upset. Okay then. Best find out why.

Cherry reached across the bed and lightly ran her nails down his back. He flinched and pulled away from her touch. She pulled away instantly. It was worse than she thought. He was upset, but didn't want her comfort. Meaning his emotional distress had something to do with her. Cherry sat up against her headboard and regarded his soft blonde curls and had a pretty good idea of what was going on underneath them.

"You think you've betrayed her. That you've betrayed yourself," she concluded aloud.

He didn't turn around. "Yes."

"I see." She hoped her disappointment didn't fill her voice. "Did you want to leave?"

At this, Jane turned to her. "Don't you think that would be best?"

She smiled at his conviction. He felt guilty, that much was clear. He'd been a living memorial to his family for so long that any attempt at moving on made him feel like a traitor. She sighed. While she didn't agree with his feelings, she understood them. About a year after Tom died, friends had started asking if she'd like to start seeing other people again. They had friends, colleagues, family members that they'd love to introduce her to, they said. She had smiled politely at their offer, but her gut had twisted at the very thought. Tom was her husband. The fact that he was dead was irrelevant. He was her dearest love and the father of her children. She needed no one else. Not ever.

But the years had passed, and while her love for Tom never faded, her loneliness had increased. Tom was her husband, but he was gone. He would never see his daughters, or play with them, or see them graduate or marry. He could no longer argue with her about his long hours, what movie to go see, where to spend Christmas. He couldn't call her Cherry Pie when he was feeling silly or Cher when he was mad. He couldn't comfort them from the grave. She began to slowly realize that her memories were just that. Not the man himself, just images enshrined in her own mind. She still didn't date, but she was no longer opposed to the idea of someone else. Then Patrick Jane had strolled into her life and she was able to give a face to that idea.

Looking at him now, she was grateful for that. Even if he walked out now and never returned, she would be glad for the temporary gift of feeling that spark for someone again.

She gazed at him levelly. "Of course it's not best, Patrick. It's easiest."

He huffed at her answer and turned back to the window, silently cursing her wisdom.

She continued softly. "Is this what she would have wanted? You angry and alone? If she'd had the chance, would she have insisted you live out the rest of your life in solitude and avenge their deaths? Is that what _you _would have wanted, if she had survived and you hadn't?"

He dropped his head into his hands and said nothing.

Cherry climbed over the mattress and sat next to him. She didn't touch him, she knew he didn't want it. Instead, she just stared at the window and interlaced her fingers. They were silent for a moment before she spoke again.

"Do you really want to leave? Or are you angry because you think you should and don't want to?"

He sighed next to her. She ached to hold him, but stayed where she was. "I honestly don't know," he mumbled.

She looked down at her lap, blinking back tears that she forbade to cross her cheeks. She had hoped for a more positive answer.

"Then you should go, Patrick. Clear your head." She stood up and gathered his clothes from the floor, straightening them out and laying them on the bed next to him.

"I'll tell the girls you had an early meeting," she added gently.

His head shot up at this. "No, please--," he stopped.

She looked back at him questioningly.

He swallowed and looked at her clearly for the first time that morning. "Can I say goodbye to them before I go?"

Cherry sniffed and laughed softly. "They'd like that." She paused as she regarded his watery blue eyes. She was amazed at how quickly she'd come to love them. _Love?_ She wondered. Then shook her head. Now was not the time to consider it, not when he was having second thoughts about their entire relationship.

Jane dressed quickly, keeping his head down and moving for the door with hurried intention. He almost passed her, but stopped himself. He stood next to her, still and quiet for several seconds, before launching himself at her and dragging her into his arms. A psychic in a three-piece suit and a naked burlesque dancer locked each other in their arms and held on for dear life. Jane frantically kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, her throat.

"I'll say goodbye to them. After that, give me one week, Cherry. Please. Just one week."

The last thing Cherry wanted was to release him, but she nodded and slowly pulled her arms from around his back. "One week," she agreed.

He turned without another word and disappeared.

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_Three days later…_

Darkness. After all, he'd insisted. Grace sat quietly in their SUV as Rigsby drove. As they'd climbed into the car after work, he took out a blindfold and handed it to her.

"What's this for?" she asked.

He smiled. "What are they usually for?" he countered.

She punched his arm playfully. "Smartass." She tied the silky, dark cloth around her eyes and lowered her hands. "I don't see why I'm not allowed to see where we're—hhmm!" She started and broke off her sentence as her lips were invaded with his. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her breathless before pulling back and starting the ignition.

"Just making sure you couldn't see that coming," he explained as he backed out of their spot. "Now, no more complaining, or you'll get more of the same."

Grace huffed her pretend-annoyance while secretly thrilling at the idea of being punished so sweetly for her insolence. She was also more than a little turned on at her total lack of control. She had her hearing, she had her hands and her mouth, but it was still so erotic that her main source of information was gone. She read somewhere that sight accounted for up to 90% of human sensory input. Boy, did she believe it. Aside from knowing that they were moving, she had very little to go on. She couldn't even read Rigsby's mood as they sat in silence, something she could almost always discern from his face. She reached her hand across the console, tentatively searching for him with her fingers instead of her eyes. Her fingertips brushed his cheek and she felt him start.

"What are you doing?" he asked, turning his cheek against her hand to look at her.

She smiled as she spread her fingers wider, touching him on his earlobe, his mouth, his nose, and the corner of his eye. She was surprised when she recognized one of his smiles. It was the little one, the one where just the corners of his mouth turned up and his eyes creased just a tad. He often gave her this smile. She loved knowing that she could identify it even without seeing it.

"I'm looking at you," she answered. "You're smiling at me. One of my favorite smiles."

She felt him take her hand and kiss her fingertips.

"Almost there," he said as he released her hand.

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She couldn't see, but she knew where they were when they parked and Rigsby led her out of the car and into the street. She knew the smell, a combination of asphalt and oak trees, combined with a relatively quiet suburban hum. West Washington Avenue. The House of Ill Repute. She was pleased that she'd figured out her location with no sight, but she was instantly curious as to why she needed to be blindfolded if they were just going to Cherry's place.

Rigsby led her through the front door (_He has a key?)_ and through the usual maze of hallways that Grace knew like the back of her hand with her eyes, but felt completely lost with them covered. She sensed darkness everywhere, which was unusual for the House. And no music, even as they moved deeper its belly. _Where was everybody?_

He guided her through a door and into the middle of a large room, the ballroom, she guessed, based on how their footsteps echoed loudly in the large, open space.

He brought her to a halt in the center of the room and gently turned her so that her back was to his chest. Goosebumps broke out over her arms as he lightly traced his thumbs from her wrists to her shoulders. She felt him nuzzle her hair and heard him inhale deeply.

"You always smell so good," he murmured against her head, his nose burrowing into her soft mane. She giggled and sighed as his hands moved upwards into her hair, slowly tugging at the knot of the blindfold.

"Do you know where you are?"

She nodded. "In Cherry's ballroom."

He chuckled into her hair. "That's my girl. Now I know you'll stay sharp if you're ever abducted for real."

She smirked as she reached up and stilled his hands on the knot. "Do you expect me to be abducted anytime soon?"

He growled against her softly. "If anyone but me tries it, he'll be dead before he gets two feet."

She shivered as his voice dripped with possessiveness and protectiveness. She released his hands, letting him unmask her. The fabric fell from her eyes and she gasped. The ballroom was lit up with hundreds of candles. They glowed softly from their spots on the floor and gave the room a soft, warm ambiance. She turned slowly as she took it all in, exclaiming with happiness, silently wondering how long it took to light each little flame. Near where they stood, she noticed a circle of candles around one of Cherry's stripper poles. She knew that pole. It was part of the training equipment in the practice hall. She'd never seen it used in the ballroom before and wondered why Cherry needed it here. This room was almost never used, except for shows and parties. The rest of the time, it stayed empty.

She turned to Rigsby and caught him staring at her with a predatory glint in his eyes.

"This is beautiful, Wayne. Did you do all of this?" she asked in wonder.

He nodded slowly.

She smiled. "Any special reason?"

He nodded again, slowly advancing towards her.

Her smile grew and she arched her brow at him suggestively. "Care to share?"

He came to a stop in front of her and gently ran a finger through her hair. "Take off your clothes, Gray."

She giggled. "What? Here? No way."

He continued to stroke her hair, his eyes never leaving her face. "Yes. Here. I want you to take off your clothes, then I want you to choose."

She shivered again and nuzzled her cheek against his hand. "Choose?" she whispered, loving the feel of his rough palm against her face. "Choose what?"

His other hand slithered behind her back and pulled her flush against him. She could already feel the bulge behind his zipper and she mewled into his hand. He smiled as his thumb grazed her lips.

"Choose. Dance…or run."

Her eyes fluttered as she looked up at him, trying to focus through the haze of her desire. She shook her head, trying to understand. He brought his lips down to her ear and whispered hotly.

"It's time for your punishment, baby. You tortured me the other night with that little handcuff stunt, now it's payback. So," he nibbled on her lobe as she moaned softly against him. "you have a choice. You can dance for me on that pole, or you can run and hide. Either way, you'll be in your underwear and either way…I'm coming for you."

She gasped and moaned louder. He meant it. Every single word. He moved his lips down her throat.

"And when you're done with your dance, or when I find you, I am going to rip your cute little panties off and take you from behind."

A breathy little sob tore from her throat as she collapsed into him, already wet and throbbing from his delectable threats. Cloudy objections floated through her head and she mumbled, "We can't. Someone will see us…"

"We're the only ones here tonight. No one will see us. No one will watch you dance or find you hiding. Except me. And baby?" His tongue flicked out over the hollow in her throat. "No one will hear you scream when you come for me."

Her slick inner walls clamped down hard, seeking the man who made her so wet and ready with just the rough timbre of his voice. Her head fell back and she swooned against his chest, just like a trashy romance novel. He brushed his lips over her forehead and held her in his arms.

"Choose," he repeated.

"I--," Grace stuttered. "I…don't…I want to…"

"You want to what?"

She forced her eyes to open wide and clear. She willed strength back into her legs and stood straight in front of him. She looked him dead in the eye. She needed to stay strong and focused if she was indeed going to go through with this.

"I want to run."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby had never been the vengeful type. He didn't hold grudges and he tried not to take things too personally when people did wrong by him. He found it unsatisfying and it didn't effect the transgressor anyway, so why bother? But when he made a vow to give someone their comeuppance, he always followed through. Sometimes words were thrown down. Sometimes punches. But always in a fair and gentlemanly way. Words were always preferable and fisticuffs a last resort.

This was different.

Grace had made him suffer in the most delicious way he could ever imagine. Who would have guessed his sweet, serious little Grace was a demon in the sack? And she was too, as he was quickly learning. That handcuffs thing? Had liquefied him. His entire being had exploded into her body and he'd felt sublimely drained of everything but pleasure. That was days ago and he was still feeling that orgasm ghosting around in his system.

But now it was his turn.

Screw fair and gentlemanly. This was an eye for an eye. She liked imprisoning big, strong men? Well, this big, strong man liked to hunt. The idea of his nubile little goddess running from him in her panties while he tore the place apart looking for her made him as hard as steel. Let her run. Let her try and hide from him. He'd find her. He'd track her down like a bloodhound. And when he found her? All giggly and wide-eyed at her discovery? He'd howl with victory as he bent her over and took his revenge. He'd pull every possible sound from those sweet little lips and make her say his name over and over as he fucked her senseless.

She was looking at him now. The haziness was leaving her eyes and her limbs were no longer sagging against him. She was powering up. Good. He wanted her in rare form. It wouldn't be nearly as fun if she didn't defy him. Without a word, she started to undress.

She took her time, giving him a little striptease as she turned her back to him and slowly lifted her top over her head. She tossed it aside and languidly stretched her arms up and shook her head, making her hair dance over her shoulders and back. Rigsby groaned at the sight of her red bra strap winking at him from beneath her tresses. She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling wickedly as she slowly unzipped her pants and drew them down her legs with madding slowness, bending over at her waist and giving him an eyeful of her gorgeous ass encased in matching red lace boy-cut panties. The kind that left her cheeks peeking out at the bottom. The kind that made him want to skip the game and just get to the part where he rips them off and buries himself in her tight, sweet channel.

She pulled her socks, shoes and pants off in a few deft movements and stood like a sexy, naked sprite in front of him, her red underwear set teasing and flirting with him as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Do I at least get a head start?" she asked with a strategic pout on her lips.

His cock twitched at the very picture of sex that she made and he had to crush the groan that threatened to rise up. He _would_ be strong. This was _his _game, dammit. He wouldn't forfeit at the starting line.

He nodded. "I'll close my eyes and count to one hundred." He stepped forward and traced his finger over her lips, his eyes heating up as he whispered to her. "My little red fox. I'm going to enjoy hunting you."

Her eyes fluttered momentarily at his soft touch before opening again, wide with fire blazing in them.

"Close your eyes," she said softly.

He obeyed, listening to her footfalls as she disappeared into the darkness. He smiled and kept his word. "One…two…three…"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Oh, God. Where? Wherewherewherewhere? Grace ran out of the ballroom and into the blackness of the outside hallway. Her bare feet padded softly on the floor as she moved quickly down the corridor. From the minute he'd said he would hunt her down, her mind had flown into a delicious panic. Her body was buzzing with a heady cocktail: blatant fear of a predator and full-blown passion for her lover. It nearly made her faint. And in her underwear, no less. She felt so exposed. So vulnerable. So unbelievably sexy. Her eyes narrowed and she stopped in her tracks.

_Stop running_, she told herself. _Think. You have about two minutes. Think!_

There were dozens of rooms upstairs. There were several storage areas in the basement. There was the locker room. The costume area. The stage. The practice hall.

She considered them quickly as she stood in the darkness. She could hear Rigsby's voice getting louder. "Seventy-four…seventy-five…"

Twenty-five seconds left. She made a decision. She ran.

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"Ninety-nine..._one hundred_!" Rigsby called the last number particularly loudly. If she was in earshot, he wanted her to know her precious time was up.

He opened his eyes and gazed around the candle-lit room. There were several doors leading out, but he already knew what exit she'd chosen. He turned towards the door he'd heard her run towards. Before taking a step, he reached up and took off his tie, tossing it to the ground. He took off his jacket, then his dress shirt, leaving them in a pile. He pulled off his belt, he took out his keys and his wallet. He added them all to the pile, wanting to make sure he made as little noise as possible. He also wanted as few impediments in the way when he actually found her. There would be no foreplay needed tonight. The hunt was the foreplay. And when she was finally in his arms, he wanted the bare minimum of fabric between them. He stood in his tee shirt and slacks and smiled.

"Here I come."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He moved quietly through each space. Being the methodical cop that he was, he started in the upstairs rooms and worked his way down. He concentrated on the main spaces, instinctively knowing that Grace wouldn't make this too hard for him. She wanted to be caught. He'd seen it in her eyes as he'd brushed his thumb over her lips.

The rooms were dark. Quiet. All he could hear was his own breathing and his occasional whispers as he peaked behind furnishings and doors.

"_Graaaaace_. Cute little fox. Come out. I know you're here somewhere."

He knew no such thing, but he was sure his taunts would goad her into giving away her hiding place. Prey always broke its cover if the hunter got too close. He padded downstairs to the main floor and stopped short. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes.

_Grace._

Her perfume, to be more precise. He could detect a faint whisper of it in the air. She'd been here, in this hallway. She was on the main floor. His nose filled with her scent and his blood charged through his veins. His little fox had run down this passageway in her little red panties, her pretty red hair trailing behind her. His groin pressed uncomfortably against his pants at the mental picture. When he caught up with her… Oh, the things he was going to do.

He moved down the corridor and came to an open door. Strange. None of the other doors had been open that'd he'd encountered. He rounded the frame and saw that he was in the practice hall, the room he'd seen Grace dancing with Liev several nights ago. The room was dark. Nothing moved. No noise again, save for him. He let his eyes wander over the room.

_She was here._

He could feel it. He could smell it. Her perfume was dancing around his face and his gut told him that she'd choose this room, knowing he was familiar with it. He began his search, slowly checking the corners, peeking behind the workout machines and under the boxing ring. His voice dripped out with loving danger.

"Sweeeeet little Grace. I know you're here." He fingered one of the suspended chains as he meandered slowly through the room. "I can smell you. Your perfume led me right to you."

He froze. Did he just hear a gasp? His head whipped around and he searched the darkness hard for any signs of movement.

"You're in trouble now, foxy girl. Why don't you come out? I promise I'll go easy on you if you cooperate." He smiled at his own cop talk. He still saw nothing. No movement from any part of the room. He cursed under his breath. Where was she?

A giggle.

He whipped around again. Absolutely no doubt. She was here. Somewhere. But he'd checked the room thoroughly and found no trace of her. Her perfume and laughter were floating in the air, provoking him, but he couldn't see a thing. He growled softly.

"You're only making it worse, baby," he threatened the thin air around him.

Just then one of the silk ropes suspended from the ceiling moved. His eyes automatically went up. He gasped. There, almost thirty feet above him, was Grace. She'd twisted her arms and legs into the rope, anchoring herself into the silk and chain canopy far above the floor. He couldn't help it. He smirked and shook his head at her ingenuity. How the hell was he going to get to her?

"Found you," he called up softly.

She laughed from her perch. "Finding me isn't catching me, is it, tough guy?"

He growled and huffed as he circled the rope, trying to work out how to get her down.

"And just how, little missy, did you get up that big, scary rope all by yourself?" He condescended.

She smiled down at him, enjoying his frustration as he circled her like a dog would circle a treed cat. She reached over and patted another pile of rope suspended next to her.

"Rope ladder. Anna Angel uses it to climb up when she practices. But it's all bunched up now. I'll pulled it up once I got comfy. So," she chirped conversationally. "Any plans on just how you're going to rip my panties off from way down there?"

Oh, she was in big damn trouble now. She was taunting him, smug in the certainty that she'd won. He could almost hear her thoughts. She thought she'd beaten him. That he'd have to ask her to come down. That he'd have to promise that he'd be a nice boy and say that she'd bested him fair and square. And she'd shimmy down, all cool and cocky that she'd outmaneuvered him.

Abso-fuckin-lutely not.

His brain wisely stepped aside and let his animal instincts take over. He grabbed one of the identical silk ropes hanging by hers and began to climb. His memories of P.E. helped him; reach up, lock your arms, twist your feet into the rope and create a step, reach up again, etc.

He heard Grace gasp loudly above him. He had to admit, he'd even shocked himself. But she had underestimated him and he couldn't let it stand. So, he used the muscles she so often admired and clambered his way towards his cornered prey.

Despite not having climbed a rope in nearly 15 years, he made quick progress. He paused almost halfway up and looked up at her.

"Not so sassy now, are you?" he hissed hotly at her.

Her eyes were wide with shock and he wished he had a camera on him; his girl hanging from a rope in red underwear looking stunned. Priceless.

"I…I can't believe you're…" she couldn't seem to get her words out.

"Can't believe what? I _told_ you I was coming for you. There's nowhere you can go that I won't find you." He climbed up another two feet without breaking eye contact. "_And _catch you."

He saw her eyes glaze over with desire, but something else too. It burned through the passion and took over completely as he watched her expression change. Defiance. Without another word, her legs released the rope. She fell. Quickly. Her hands stayed loose on the rope and she flew passed him on her way to the ground.

Rigsby didn't even have time to gasp in fear for her. He let his own legs loose and fell after her, controlling his speed by gripping the rope. He kept his eyes glued to her descent as she slowed gracefully as she approached the floor and landed like a professional acrobat. She cast a saucy glance up at him, seeing he was hot on her heels, and sprinted across the hall. Rigsby landed with a little less grace and took off after her, running with all of his might.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Yes!_ She was almost to the door. She could hear him behind her, landing hard off the rope and charging after her. Her flight instinct was in firm control as she flew across the hardwood floor. So close. After the door, she'd take a right, make a break for the ballroom. It was big and she could maintain her speed. She just had…to make it…a few more steps.

Just as she reached the door frame, her heart exploded with hope. She did it! She'd made the hallway. But just as her fingers brushed the wood, she felt two strong arms, wrap around her waist and yank her clean off her feet.

She cried out in panic and pure joy. "Aaah!"

She was snatched backwards against a hard, muscular wall. She wailed against her capture, squirming and squealing as she tried to escape, but his grip only got firmer and he laughed deep in his throat as he held her in place. She shuddered at how primal this felt, being hunted and captured by a big, strong man. Her feminist side would have recoiled, but her girlish side was delighted by his ability to catch her and restrain her. She decided to go with the theme.

She immediately stopped struggling and arched her whole body upwards and back, pressing into his erection and clasping her arms backward around his neck. Her stomach and breasts lifted beautifully and his hands instinctively morphed from restraints into explorers. He splayed his hands wide and slid them along her slender waist, up her silky ribcage, cupping her breasts through her bra where they circled and teased her sensitive nerves. She uttered little sighs and moans of approval while Rigsby gasped and hissed at her sudden and arousing change of tactics. She swiveled her hips against his suggestively, teasing and provoking him. One big hand snaked up her throat and pushed her head to one side, exposing her jugular to him.

"You didn't cooperate," he said huskily as he lowered his lips to her throat and nibbled her skin.

She shivered against him. "No, I didn't. What are you going to do to me?"

He slid his hand down again so that one hand cupped her breast while the other gripped her hip. "I think," he growled, as he continued to work her in his hands, making her moan with pleasure. "I think it's time for your punishment."

"Oh, no," she whispered breathlessly, aching with lust as she felt his erection jab against her lower back.

"Oh, yes," he hissed in her ear. "You've been a very bad girl and you need to be disciplined."

Grace's eyes rolled back and she gave a strangled little cry as she fell backwards against him.

"You wouldn't dare," she whispered with playful contempt, but her haughtiness melted when the hand on her hip dipped behind her and his thumb grazed her ass cheek just under her panties.

She gasped and moaned as her knees gave out. She would have fallen straight to the floor if his arm hadn't caught her at the waist and held her tightly to him. Her hands, still at the back of his neck, dug into his skin and clenched his hair. Rigsby smiled wickedly against her throat. "I really like these panties. Too bad they'll be joining my little collection."

She moaned and pressed harder against him. She loved his dark streak. It was so frightening and exciting and loving all at the same time. Her wetness had already saturated the fabric in question and Rigsby hissed when his hand encountered her slick entrance.

He pressed hard on her clit and she keened softly. "Are you going to take your medicine like a good girl?"

Grace was deep under his thrall as he continued to caress her so intimately, but his words sparked her stubborn streak again. She looked up at him over her shoulder, her eyes blazing with lust and rebelliousness, "Never."

He roared with delight and whisked her up in his arms, carrying her to her mat and pushing her on her hands and knees in front of him. He positioned himself behind her and with one quick swipe, he ripped the red lace clean off of her.

"Yes!" she cried out, arching her back and offering herself to him, wanting him so badly that she thought she would explode.

He forced her legs apart with his, ripping open his fly and freeing his raging erection. He pulled her hips in alignment with his, and plunged deep.

They screamed together, hers a breathy, high pitched cry over his scratchy baritone. He pumped wildly into her, hissing and growling possessively as Grace cried out and gasped with pleasure as she was fucked hard and fast.

He kept her pinned down, holding her back and gripping her hips as he drove furiously into her, whispering fervently to her the whole time, "Beautiful Grace…so good, so fucking good…willful girl…making me fuck you so hard…God, I love you so much…sweet…baby…_fuck_!"

Grace sobbed with ecstasy. She used her arms as leverage against the mat to push back into him, loving how deep he was buried in her, loving how he drove his hips so roughly against her ass. When he slipped one hand around her waist and continued his work on her clit, hissing that she belonged to him, she came as suddenly and violently as a lightening strike.

"_WAYNE!_" she screamed shrilly, clenching her inner muscles and arching her back. Rigsby came with her, forcing her hips wide and screaming so loudly that the air shook.

Grace couldn't support herself any longer as her knees and elbows shook. Rigsby, also having trouble staying upright, held her to him and gently moved to the floor so that they lay spooned on their sides, their bodies still locked together. Rigsby curled his arms protectively around her and nuzzled his face into her long hair. "There are no words for you, Grace," he panted hoarsely against her ear.

She shivered against the last of her orgasm and the chilliness of the mat. He disengaged from her body and pulled his tee shirt over his head, tucking it around her torso and pulling her into his arms again. She turned and burrowed into his chest, inhaling deeply and sighing softly.

"I'm so glad you caught me," she whispered into his bare skin. He tucked his finger under her chin and prodded her to look up at him. She found him smiling softly, running his fingers through her hair.

"My red fox. I'll always catch you," he teased lightly. His gaze and fingers wandered lower and he slipped them under his tee shirt to trace her bellybutton.

She giggled as he tickled her gently. She watched as his face became so soft and sentimental that she had to ask.

"What are you thinking about?"

He raised his eyes to hers before dropping them again. "I saw Lila for the first time in this room," he said quietly.

She smiled. "Yes, you did. She's cute, isn't she?"

His fingers roved over her tummy. "She's you."

Grace chuckled softly. "So everyone says."

Rigsby's face grew serious as he splayed his hand over her lower belly, across the spread of her hips. "I want to make one just like her. Here."

Grace inhaled sharply as Rigsby dragged her into his chest, still holding his hand against her tummy.

"When I saw Lila, I saw you, your belly all round and beautiful. _Our _baby. I want you to have my children and I want them to look just like you."

"But--," Grace stuttered.

"But what?"

"We're partners," she said.

"I'll leave the department."

"We're cops." Her eyes were wide as she stared at him.

"Cops have children all the time."

"We're not even married or anything." Her heart was racing with shock. And something else.

"Marry me, then."

"_What_?!"

"Marry me, Gray. Be my wife. Have my children. Let me hold you like this every night and grow old with me. Please?"


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19- Drama 101**

The emotional state of the entire bullpen had been running a gamut lately. With Halloween night ending a mere thirteen days ago, the chain of events that had ensued had spared none of their feelings, save for Lisbon, whose absence at the party and safety behind a thin glass wall had protected her from the lunacy that currently yoked her unit members.

Despite her nonparticipation, she wasn't stupid. Occasionally looking up from her desk to her little group, she could swear she felt a draft of emotional winds swirling around them. Their behavior was off. Their glances at each other, or lack of glances, or staunch solitude, or blissful vacant expressions, or intent thousand-yard stares, were all silently catalogued by their petite boss. Their work didn't suffer and their working relationships were unaffected when it mattered, so she said nothing. But she knew. Something…several things…were going on.

Then their next case landed on her desk. She sighed and causally flipped through the new assignment as she sipped her coffee.

_Jesus._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Five days. _Five goddamn days_. Jane twisted and squirmed on his couch in a vain attempt to get comfortable. He hadn't found a comfortable position in the last five days and he knew he sure as hell wasn't going to find one now, but he tried anyway. He had to. It gave his body something to do besides pine for a soft, sweet dancer that fit in his arms like a much-missed key and calmed his nerves like nothing else ever had.

He'd asked her for a week. _What the fuck for?_ At the time he didn't know why. He'd felt guilty and trapped and asking for time seemed like a good idea. Now he realized that was the absolute worst thing he could have done. Despite all of his misgivings and fears, he could have battled them out while holding Cherry in his arms and reaffirming again and again why he needed to move on with his life. These days without her? Agony.

He shifted again as he looked around the office. He sighed. He liked working here. Enjoyed it very much. It gave his over-active mind something to do. Gave him a reason to get up every morning. Gave him a support network and the tenuous beginnings of four new friendships with people who knew him for what he was. As high-profile and popular as he'd been in his old life, very few people could say they knew the real him. But these new people had seen the full range of the Patrick Jane Rainbow of Charm, Meddling and Bullshit and still cared about him. It was a novel concept. After hating himself for so long, at first he didn't want to believe in their friendship. He put it down to his aptitude to charm his way into anyone's good graces and to their naivety and inability to spot a bastard in sheep's clothing when they saw one. But as the months went on and his mask slipped on various occasions, their affection for him did not. He was forced to amend his theory. They were not naïve. They were good people. And they cared. This, and only this, made the day livable.

It was the night that had it in for him. He'd feel the day drawing to a close, watch as each team member gathered their things and headed home one by one, and then he would sit on his couch and wait for the darkness with the same irrational fright that he'd feel for a fucking mass vampire attack. But the darkness needed no vampiric addition to scare the shit out of him. All it needed was the absence of everybody else. Alone in the dark, he was right where Cherry warned him never to be. Left to his own devices. And just as she had admitted about herself, he also went to bad places. Very bad places. Before thirteen days ago, he had been relatively okay with this. He could snuggle deep into his couch in his new sanctuary of the CBI and try to battle it out until the sun came up and everyone came back to work. On a good night, he could even boast some broken, nightmare-filled sleep. On his blacker nights, he went home. The ghosts of his family and of his own mind filled the pointless, haunted decadence of his mansion and he welcomed them openly. He often spoke to them, offering apologies and threats to the different poltergeists spooking through his hallways and imagination. He'd inevitably wander into his bedroom and talk to the one face he knew better than his own. That fucking, doughy, smiling bastard dripping down his wall. His wife's blood? His child's? Both? Probably both. Red John would have enjoyed that.

He had the longest conversations with that face. It probably knew him better than anybody. On some sick level, he trusted it more than anybody. It rarely sassed him and kept its own counsel. He respected that. But during some of their more heated arguments, he'd threaten to burn the whole house down. Yep, he and that disembodied fucker could sit and watch the flames lick up the wall and threaten to wipe that grin right off his badly scrawled face. That would show him. But the face kept smiling serenely at him, knowing that Jane's threat scared Jane far more than it did him. He'd never burn his house down. His throat closed up with panic at the very thought. Sure, it was a dead, haunted, empty building taking up prime real estate in a picturesque, vapid location, but it was all he had. If he burned it to the ground, what then? What would be left of him except the clothes on his back, a job that he loved and his own mind that he despised? So, he kept the house as a shadow puppet show for his darker, bombastic performance nights. His fortress of solitude with a cast and audience of one.

Then thirteen days ago happened.

Now the nights didn't frighten him. They terrified him. In its dark maw, even his ghosts had abandoned him. He no longer could depend on them for company and had only himself to talk to. His brain seized at the very notion. He had always been a ham, and even in his ugliest moments, he always had his imaginary enemies to perform with. But they'd left him, sensing that he needed to work out his earthly dilemmas before they could return and bandy with him on death, fate and the cruelty of God.

Alone.

Even his house didn't appeal to his darkness. In fact, now it repulsed him. It used to feel like a delicious, filthy addiction. Now it felt exactly the same, only he was ashamed of it. What would Cherry think if she saw it? What would Lila and SoSo do if they ran through its hallways and found that face? He bristled and fumed. _No!_ That face wasn't allowed to see them. It was not permitted to smile benignly down at their little heads, smug in the knowledge that it was born of young girlish blood just like theirs. _NO!_ He'd take an axe to that wall before he let that happen. He'd take a tanker truck full of gasoline and drive it right through his front door before he let a single little Delaney set foot in there. He'd—

_Stop, Patrick._

His mind instantly stilled as another voice spoke softly in the tornado of his rage.

_Just stop_, it whispered.

He wasn't hallucinating. He knew what he heard wasn't real. But he reacted instantly. _Cherry._ Cherry was in his head. He'd been hamming it up again, fighting and raging and cursing to the skies, and she'd sliced through his mental theatrics and reached out for him. He felt his anger die down and his body shifted into just the right spot.

_You're not that man_, she caressed him lovingly. _You're stronger than that._

"I _am _that man." Did he murmur that out loud?

He felt her smile. Her real smile. _Drama queen. _

He gave a little laugh and let his head fall to one side. Had his couch always been this comfortable? _You're not really here_, he thought to her.

She giggled lightly. _If I were, wouldn't I say the same things?_

_Tell me to stop freaking out and call me a drama queen? Yes, yes you would_.

She smiled again. He felt it fill his head, pour into his mouth and activate on his own lips.

_I miss you_, he thought.

_You have no idea how much I miss you. The girls are furious that all of their jewelry is accounted for. They insist you come back and steal it._

He chuckled with more warmth this time.

_Anything else?_ he asked.

_Yes_. Her voice was so playful. He couldn't wait for her next words.

_Bring back my heart when you come_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grace heard Jane mumbling lightly from his couch, but it barely registered as she stared unflinchingly at her computer and at words that swam in indecipherable code. What was she supposed to be doing? Oh, yeah. Looking up welders in the bay area. They were wrapping up a murder involving a certain type of blowtorch. Ick. Now she needed to know who would use this particular model. She refocused her eyes and tried to make them understand English again.

Nope. They were broken. Apparently her eyes were far more interested in the chaotic riot going on just behind them. She was fairly certain they were trying to turn in their sockets and watch the mad scramble of thoughts ricocheting in her brain. Thoughts that had nothing to do with work. Thoughts that had to do with the rest of her life and the man who asked to be a part of it. Well, at least it looked it looked she was working. Her brain might be a fried collection of emotional debris, but tapping blindly at her keyboard ensured no one was aware of that fact.

Wayne. Damn that man. Two days ago he'd ask her to marry him and have two dozen babies together. After less than two weeks of dating? _Who does that?!_ And what scared her to death is how close she came to whispering yes. Yes, for God's sake! What was she thinking? What was _he_ thinking? Ugh!

She shook her head hard and clicked randomly at the screen. What made her so angry is that she _wanted_ to marry him. Really, really badly. She wanted to get pregnant as soon as possible and watch his face when he was handed his new little boy/girl, a tiny little figure surrounded by the safety and love of his arms. Would he cry? Would he laugh? Either would be adorable. Then she fast-forwarded, their little one is now seven or eight, like Lila. Grace already knew that their children would worship Wayne. They would adore their giant of a father, almost as much as he would adore them. She could hear their screaming laughter as he lifted them high in the air, convinced that he only need lift them a little higher, and they could pluck stars right out of the sky.

Her chest ached with love at these thoughts, but the peaceful village of these thoughts was invaded by Vikings. Vikings, meaning thoughts about work.

She was 26 years old. She hadn't even been at the CBI a year, still technically a rookie. She worked violent crimes and got shot at every month. She liked her work, loved it, actually. And her relationship with Wayne was a direct violation of its code of ethics. Just being together could get them _and_ Lisbon in big trouble. Marriage would immediately force one of them to leave. Wayne had offered, but she hated the idea. The CBI was his home and it would never feel whole without him, even if she went home to him every night. And if they were married, did it make sense for him to leave instead of her? After all, she would be the one getting pregnant. Didn't it make sense for her to take a safer job somewhere else? Something that didn't involve bulletproof vests and interrogation rooms? Of course it made sense. The thought of anything happening to a baby that _he _gave her made her sick. She couldn't risk it. So she would have to leave. This thought also made her sick. Where would she go? Where would she find a job that gave her this much satisfaction? Narcotics? Fraud? White collar crimes? Nuts to that. She cursed under her breath.

She had asked him for time to think it over. It was so sudden, she'd told him. They didn't need to rush into anything. He'd smiled and told her to take as long as she needed. He wasn't going anywhere. She sighed and brought her eyes back into focus. Back to work, Grace. Back to work.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20- No**

"People, we have our next case." Lisbon's comment pulled everyone from their thoughts. She was piling their meeting table high with research and dossiers for each of them. The other four were silently grateful. They hadn't had a pressing case in several weeks and it felt good to focus on something other than their current thoughts. They all joined her around the small table and settled into their usual seats.

Grace picked up the dossier and began reading. "What's the story?"

Lisbon opened her own file and reclined into her chair. "Forced prostitution, drugs and possibly murder. Narcotics stumbled across a string of strip clubs that are actually fronts for the sex slave trade. They're also running meth. Some clubs run girls, others bake the meth in basement labs. It's a huge setup and very well organized. Narcotics are also asking the Organized Crime Unit for help, just to make sure all of our bases are covered. Meanwhile, bodies of young girls are starting to turn up, all of them can be traced back to these clubs. That's where we come in."

"How does Narcotics want to proceed?" asked Cho.

Lisbon was quiet for a second. "They obviously want to move carefully. If we start sniffing around and asking questions, the clubs will just move the girls somewhere else and shut the labs down. They've been doing this a long time. Narcotics have been after them for awhile now, but they've been slippery."

She paused and took a sip of her coffee. "That's why they've asked us to send someone undercover. They want someone inside to gather as much information as possible on the meth labs and where they're keeping these girls. Most of the victims were beaten to death, so we need to move quickly if we're going to stop the body count."

"What's the cover then?" Rigsby asked, already feeling his gut rise up. _Please don't say it. Please don't say it. Please don't say it!_

"A stripper."

Rigsby's breath froze in his lungs. _No. _

He spoke up. "Why not a bouncer? Then we'd have someone capable of carrying a weapon."

Lisbon shook her head. "Bouncers aren't allowed access to the dressing rooms or back areas. We need someone inside who can move freely. We also need someone who draws little suspicion. A half-naked girl in a room full of half-naked girls can work the scene better."

She looked at Grace. "Van Pelt? I'd like to have a conversation with your sister. I know she's not a stripper, but I'd value any input she might have. Maybe she'd be willing to help us"

Jane's heart stopped in his chest. _No._

Grace nodded and took a slow breath. "Of course, boss. She could help a lot. She used to dance in clubs when she was putting herself through school. She'd know how to get in, how to work the owners, how to get into back areas. So would most of her troupe: Arianna, Julia, Anna Angel. They've all worked clubs."

Cho's eyes narrowed a fraction. _No._

The two women sat oblivious to the men's silent objections and continued to scribble notes.

"Great. Call her asap and ask her to come in. Today, if possible. Also ask if anyone else at her theater would be willing to talk to us. Anything they could contribute would be very helpful."

Lisbon stood up and snapped her file shut, the unspoken dismissal of her team. "Can I see you in my office, Van Pelt?"

Grace immediately stood up. "Of course."

Rigsby watched as she and Lisbon walked into her office and shut the door behind them. _No-no-no-no-no! Not his Grace. Not his sweet, shy, stunningly beautiful Grace._ But he already knew. It was a done deal. No one on the team or even the entire floor could pull off a striptease like she could. He pictured her on a darkened stage, bending and arching her naked body in time to music, wordlessly calling to him with batting eyelashes and magnetic skin. He would sit all alone at a table in the audience and watch her as she danced just for him. _Only him._

His brain was a live wire, dangerously whipping and crackling in every direction. His hands gripped his desk's edge so hard that his knuckles turned white. Lisbon would ask her to take the assignment. Grace would agree. She would push aside all of her shyness and fear of aggressive men, take her clothes off, and dance for them. She would arch and sway against the poll. She would straddle other men's laps. She would sneak through narrow hallways pretending to find a bathroom while listening in on meetings and looking for evidence of drugs and murder. She'd play dumb if she were discovered.

His knuckles popped under the strain.

_Discovered_. Oh God. What if they found her? What if they didn't believe her? His sweet girl, wearing nothing but a thong or whatever the fuck they made her wear, thrown into a trunk and dispatched somewhere in the desert, never to be seen again. Or would they keep her? A woman so beautiful would demand a pretty penny on the sex slave market. Would they just sell her off?

Rigsby felt sick. No, he couldn't let this happen. He turned back to Lisbon's office, watching the two women deep in conversation.

_Let it be Cherry._

He flinched at his own thought, but it didn't make him unwish it. Let Cherry volunteer to go undercover. She was a dancer. She'd worked that scene before. She was a much better performer than Grace, both in dance and deception. She was tough and would take care of herself.

He knew Grace would kill him if she ever knew his silent hope, but he couldn't help it. He loved her too much. He'd unhinge if anything happened to her. And so he prayed.

_Let it be Cherry. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

…_.not Cherry not Cherry not Cherry…._

Jane was living in his own private hell the minute Lisbon asked to meet her. His head was pounding and his throat was dry. Suddenly he was furious at Cherry for choosing dance as her profession all those years ago. She should have guessed as a teenager that she might be drawn into dangerous police business posing as a stripper and stayed the hell away from Juliart. But _nooooooo_. She had to go learn the ancient art of seduction and then get herself involved in federal sting operations.

And she was coming to the office today! He wasn't ready to see her, not yet. And when he was, he'd go over to her place—where he'd find her alone—throw himself at her feet and beg her to forgive his sorry, broken ass and ask her to take him in. Then he'd promptly spend the next several hours _showing _her how much he missed her. Now he was going to have to sit across from her and hear Lisbon ask if she'd be willing to risk her life (while in her underwear) to save little girls from a fate worse than death. Of course Cherry would accept. She was strong and brave and had a glowing hatred for men who hurt women. She'd delight in their downfall and would gladly traipse around naked in a sleazy skin joint looking for the evidence to make it happen. _Fuck!_ Jane couldn't let it. He couldn't let this splendid valkyrie throw her hat in the ring. She had children! She wasn't allowed to be that reckless with Lila and SoSo depending on her.

Jane knew he was being unfair. That he was passing judgments on plans that hadn't even been made, but dammit, his fear was pushing him. Fuck it. The CBI were in charge of this circus, let one of their people take the assignment. It was their damn job anyway. How dare they rope in civilian consultants to do their wet work. Civilian consultants with kids. Civilian consultants with other civilian consultants that needed them desperately. Nope, no way. This was their problem. They could deal with it. Cherry? Was not a solution.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cho sat stoically at his desk as he watched Grace emerge from Lisbon's office. She made her way to her desk across from his and began dialing the phone.

"Hey Juarez, it's Gray. Is Cherry there?" A pause.

"Cher, it's me. Listen, can you come down to the CBI? ….Yeah, now…. Nothing's wrong. We've just gotten a case and my boss wants your opinion on certain aspects. It'll be easier to explain once you get here. And Cher? If there's anyone there who's worked at skin bars before and wants to come with you, can you bring them? Lisbon wants as much information as possible….Okay….Thanks, babe. Bye."

Cho made no outward movement, but his mind clenched hard at her request. _Anyone who's worked skin bars before. Shit! Anna. _

He no longer called her Anna Angel like everyone else did. Not since that night they laid in bed and talked for hours about their pasts. Her name was Anna Sullivan, born in Toronto and moved to California three years ago. Despite her dramatic appearance and abilities, she was a thoughtful, knowing woman. Had she torn his body to quivering shreds with her S&M magic? Perhaps. But that wasn't the point. She was also a helluva conversationalist. They read the same books and spent many a night arguing over prose and meaning. She liked Will Self and believed Chuck Barris' autobiography was 100% true. God love her. She like conspiracy theories and professed to believe all of them, knowing it pushed his rational buttons to no end. She teased him, and when he got overly preachy, she tied him up and pleasured him into submission. She got him to open up in a way he hadn't known he could. He liked the space they created, one of debate and deep thoughts and bone-melting sex.

And she'd worked skin joints. That's what worried him. Any dancer trying to break in, Anna told him, was bound to work in a strip club at least once. It's easy money and helps keep you in shape. She'd done it several times before Cherry asked her to join the burlesque circuit. Anna's face lit up at the mention of Cherry.

"She's amazing," Anna had purred. "Cherry poached every one of us from some obscure discipline and turned us into the best show in town. She caught my S&M act and offered me a job. She thought her show could use a darker edge to it, so she found me. Vampy, gothic little me." Anna chuckled as Cho played with a lock of her black hair.

"Don't forget witchy," he offered helpfully.

She slithered up his body and looked down at him with imperious eyes. He loved that look. It meant he was in trouble. Again.

"I'm a witch now, am I?" Her voice pitched low and sultry.

He nodded, not giving an inch. "Of course. I've been spellbound. It's the only rational explanation."

Her laughter tinkled through his apartment.

Cho sighed quietly. This fucking sting. He fervently hoped that vampy dominatrix was _not_ what they were after. Anna was the first woman to ever successfully ensnare his body as well as his mind and he was not going to let her walk into a sex slave deathtrap without a fight.

Anna Angel was _not _available to perform. Anna Sullivan was too wonderful to risk.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21- Entourage**

_Ding!_

The elevator opened and the sexiest entourage the CBI ever saw stepped off. Cherry, followed by Anna Angel and Arianna, sashayed down the hall and into open work space. Their entrance was quiet and respectful, their eyes searching calmly for Grace in the throng of desks, but their arrival turned every single head, male and female. Despite their ordinary clothing of jeans and long sleeves shirts, their bodies curved like rollercoasters against the fabric, undulating and straining as if begging to come out and play. Their presence sparked comments behind hands, hushed appraisals and even one small wolf whistle. But the women did nothing but survey the floor until they saw Grace at her desk. Cherry led the way.

"Hi Gray," she smiled down at her sister as they walked up.

Grace looked up and smiled back. "Cher. Thanks for coming so quickly." She looked passed her sister and smiled again. "Hey Anna Angel. Arianna."

Both women grinned at their friend. "Hey Gray," they said in unison.

Grace stood up and beckoned for them to have a seat at their small meeting table. "I'll grab Lisbon and we can get started."

The dancers obediently sat and waited quietly. Less people were looking their way, but they still garnered no small amount of interest. Even the way they sat was alluring, very regal, yet respectful and calm. Rigsby and Cho nodded politely from their desks and Cherry and Anna Angel nodded back. No one said a thing. The air felt pregnant with the unsaid and it made the men extremely uncomfortable. If the dancers felt it too, they gave no sign. They simply waited patiently.

Jane saw the entire thing transpire from the kitchen. Once he saw them alight from the elevator, he'd suddenly decided he needed tea. Right now. And it was best to let the water boil for a good long while before he poured himself a cup. Like, eight minutes of boiling. He poured the water without thinking and stirred his teabag around without looking as his eyes glued themselves to the meeting table and refused to leave.

God, she looked amazing. He so rarely saw her in normal clothes. Her hair fell loose around her face and she wore no makeup. She didn't need it. Arianna, the stunning gypsy girl, leaned over and nervously whispered something in her ear. Cherry shook her head and pressed her fingers over the girl's. A comforting gesture. Cherry smiled and said something that made Arianna smile back gratefully. Jane's chest puffed out with pride. Cherry. So kind.

Just then Grace and Lisbon appeared from her office. Jane decided now would be a good time to wander over.

"Mrs. Delaney, I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon. I'm glad to meet you." Lisbon offered her hand and Cherry stood gracefully and accepted it warmly.

"Please, Cherry, Agent Lisbon. I've heard so much about you, I feel as though I know you already." Cherry put both her hands around Lisbon's in a friendly gesture. Lisbon smiled and looked at the other two women as they stood from their seats.

"May I introduce Anna Angel and Arianna to you?" Cherry stepped aside and let them step forward. Lisbon shook both of their hands in turn.

"Thank you for coming to speak with us." Lisbon said.

They both nodded. "Of course," Anna Angel said softly. "We're happy to help."

"Please." Lisbon indicated to the hallway. "We can talk in the conference room."

Everyone fell into step behind her and they all filed into the larger, more private area. They all settled into their seats and looked at Lisbon expectantly. Jane sat as far away from Cherry as possible while still keeping her in his direct line of sight. She had yet to acknowledge him, though she didn't seem to be avoiding him either. She had her Stepford hostess face on, the one that took in everything and gave nothing in return except a pleasant smile. She was looking at him now with that smile and he instantly hated it. It wasn't her. She was performing. Her gaze moved back to Lisbon was he was grateful.

"Cherry." Lisbon began. "It's a very interesting name."

Cherry smiled with a bit more sincerity. She indicated to Grace with a small sweep of her hand. "Our parents each got to choose one. I was born first and our dad insisted on Cherry. Neil Diamond's greatest song, in his opinion. Mom named Grace, as in _Amazing Grace_. She's a very religious woman."

Jane lowered his head to hide his smile. He'd never asked her about their names before. He'd never be able to hear either song again without thinking of them.

Rigsby also silently enjoyed this little tidbit. _Amazing Grace. Damn straight._

Lisbon smiled and opened a folder she brought with her. She glanced up at the three dancers sitting together and took a breath. "What I'm about to tell you ladies is part of an investigation and must be kept confidential between us. We've come across a strip club that is responsible for a sex slave operation as well as drug production. They're very smart. They've been at it a while and we're barely keeping up with them."

"I didn't think your unit dealt in drugs or people trafficking," Cherry said.

Lisbon nodded. "True, we don't. We deal with murders. Girls from these clubs are starting to turn up dead. We believe that the less cooperative girls are killed as an example to the others. The ones that fight back or try to escape are usually murdered quickly to ensure obedience in the rest. It's a common occurrence in the slave trade."

Cherry's eyes flashed and extinguished so quickly that Jane was sure he was the only one who saw it. When she spoke, her voice was deathly calm.

"I don't understand. How are the strip clubs tied to the dead girls? Were they dancers or just captured somewhere else and sold? How do you know the club is involved?"

Lisbon flipped a page in her report. "Apparently the club is used as a lure for desperate girls looking for work. The owners promise them easy money and a safe environment to dance. Sometimes they actually hire some of these girls to work the front. The rest are kidnapped, moved, then sold. We don't believe that the girls chosen to dance actually know what's happening to the others."

The dancers nodded slightly to themselves, absorbing the information.

"What is it you need from us?" Arianna asked, still looking a little nervous.

Anna Angel gave a small chuckle and touched Arianna's shoulder gently. "They need information about how to get in and work the club properly without arousing suspicion." Anna Angel turned and leveled a smoky, kind gaze on Lisbon. "And I also suspect they need a volunteer."

The three women all turned their gaze to Lisbon, waiting patiently for her response.

Lisbon sighed. "Yes, information would be extremely helpful."

Arianna was growing visibly agitated. "And a volunteer?"

Lisbon looked at the young woman and gave an honest answer. "It's true. We need someone to go undercover."

"No." Arianna's response was clipped and frightened.

Cherry reached over and took her hand gently. "It's all right, Ari. You won't have to, you can just tell them what you know. You're not going back, I promise."

Cherry looked back to Lisbon and smiled apologetically. "Ari had a very bad experience when she worked in a club. She was attacked by a customer in the parking lot."

She continued to rub her hand soothingly and reached over to cup her cheek. "Don't worry. Just tell them about the club you worked at. Other girls are in trouble. We can help."

Arianna nodded and sniffed slightly. The agents sat in sympathetic silence.

Cherry turned back and leaned towards Lisbon slightly. "We're happy to tell you everything we can about our experiences. As for your undercover assignment, are you genuinely asking if someone from my troupe will take it?"

Lisbon also leaned forward, as if they were the only two in the room instead of eight. "Yes. I hate to involve you, but I don't see an alternative. None of my people or other agents in the building has the ability to pull a stripper off convincingly. We're desperate. But this will be dangerous. These people are not to be fucked with lightly and they'll kill anyone they suspect is a problem. I need you to know that up front."

Cherry nodded, her eyes never leaving Lisbon's. "I can't risk my employees in this, Agent Lisbon. It's too much to ask."

She paused. "So I'll take it myself."

"No!" Jane's voice caught in his throat. His 'no' hadn't escaped. It was Grace's voice that filled the room.

She looked at Cherry with panic in her eyes. "You can't, Cher. You're not a cop, you could be killed! What about the girls? Would you leave them without a mother?"

Cherry's eyes flickered, but she jutted her chin out. "I know the risks, Gray. And I also know that the quickest way for someone to get killed is if they don't know what they're doing. I know these people. They're the same everywhere. As for Lila and SoSo," she paused and smiled wanly. "They have you."

Grace turned her emphatic anger to Lisbon. "_I'll_ do it. Cherry's been training me for years. I can dance as a stripper almost as well as anyone in her troupe, certainly well enough for this place. Please, boss. You can't take my sister. She's not trained for undercover ops."

Rigsby rose slightly from his chair to object, but Jane reached a hand out and stilled him. "Not now," he whispered softly. The women didn't notice.

Cherry's gaze never left Lisbon's during Grace's heated plea, as if she didn't hear it. Instead she continued talking as if Grace wasn't there. "Agent Lisbon, even in ordinary circumstances, skin club owners aren't people whom you fuck with lightly. Grace is a good dancer, it's true, but these men are bastards. They assume that because you dance in their club, they own you. They call you a whore and touch what they shouldn't touch. They try and trick you out to their friends. They'll try anything you let them get away with." She paused and finally looked at Grace.

"You're a good cop, babe, but you're not a convincing tease. You don't know how to say 'no' and make it sound flirty, but firm. I know you. If you're pushed, you'll get angry. If you're touched inappropriately, you'll break his nose. And I know you'll suffer emotionally knowing that you've displayed yourself in such a sexual way."

Grace's eyes snapped fire as she glared at Cherry. Everyone could see that she was furious at this dress-down, in front of her boss, no less. But she said nothing. Cherry was right, and she had no immediate comeback against the truth.

Cherry turned back to Lisbon. "Teasing a room full of men is what I do for a living, Teresa. Tell me what you need from this place, and I'll get it for you."

Lisbon looked at Cherry a long time before looking back at Grace. The young agent was still fuming.

"Is she right, Van Pelt? Are you unable to control yourself if you're pushed sexually?"

Grace's gaze went from angry to pleading. "No, boss. I can do this. I won't let you down, I swear."

Lisbon sat back with a heavy sigh. "Boys? You've been awfully quiet this whole time. What do you think?"

The three men looked acutely uncomfortable. None of them wanted to voice their anger or refusal to let their respective women become involved. Especially not after Cherry's comment about club owners feeling they owned their dancers.

But something had to be said. Cho spoke up. "I think Cherry is the logical choice. I have no objections to Van Pelt's abilities, but this is Mrs. Delaney's line of work. I think she'll prove more resourceful in a tight spot."

"I disagree," Jane responded with as much calm as he could muster in his sea of anger. "This is a CBI sting and a CBI agent should take point. Grace is perfectly capable. She's proven herself many times before and is an extremely convincing dancer."

Lisbon nodded and everyone turned to Rigsby. "Agent Rigsby? You're thoughts?"

Rigsby kept his head down, refusing to look at Lisbon. He couldn't win, either way. Insist on Cherry and incur Grace's fury, or back Grace and throw her to the wolves. "Either person would do well, boss." He ground out with bad grace. He'd have his say later, when he got Grace alone.

All eyes went back to the boss. She raked her hands through her hair and sighed. "All right. Ladies, thank you again for coming in. I'd like you to sit with Cho and Rigsby and answer their questions regarding your previous experience. Van Pelt? Call the main club and set up an audition. Tell them they're not going to want to pass this up. After the audition, we'll sit back and hope they take the bait."

Grace nodded and everyone stood up. As Lisbon was walking out the door, she called after her. "Who is going to the audition? Me or Cherry?"

Lisbon paused and looked back. Everyone froze, waiting for her answer.

"Both."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22- Defeat, Defiance and Norman Mailer**

Lisbon went back into her office as Rigsby and Cho took Arianna and Anna Angel into two separate interrogation rooms. Grace went distractedly back to her desk, which gave Jane the perfect opportunity to grab Cherry's arm and hustle her back into the conference room they had all just vacated.

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed hotly at her, almost slamming the door and blocking it off with his body. He was almost vibrating with anxiety.

Cherry made no move. She didn't even cross her arms or move from the space he'd pushed her into. She did nothing. Just stood there calmly. Damn it all. He needed those kinds of cues to guess how she was feeling. Her face was no help either. Aside from being even more beautiful than he remembered, it gave no indication whatsoever of her thoughts. She gave him nothing but a blink.

"Why do people always ask the wrong questions?" Cherry asked quietly. She pulled a chair about from the table and turned it towards the door, facing him as she sat down.

"What?" he snapped. God, he hated the agitated tone of his voice. This was not how their reunion was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be holding her and whispering to her. There was also supposed to be a hell of a lot less clothing. Instead he felt desire mixing in with his anger and uncertainty, turning his blood into an unstable chemical cocktail.

She gave him a small, knowing smile. "You're asking what the hell I'm doing, but you already know. Instead you should make a statement. You disapprove of my decision. If you care for a more thorough answer, you could also tell me why you're angry with it."

Jane paced a tight line beside the door, running his hands through his hair in frustration. He didn't look at her. He couldn't. He knew his earlier observation about losing every argument to Cherry was about to be tested. And he really, really didn't want to lose this one, so he didn't look at her. Looking at her turned his heart and brain to mush. He spoke to the floor instead.

"Fine. Your decision to go undercover as a stripper is dangerous and pointless. You could be killed. Tell Lisbon you've changed your mind and let the CBI handle it." Did that sound as bossy and chauvinist as he thought it did? He hoped like hell she didn't take it that way.

Cherry regarded him coolly. "The CBI, meaning Gray? Let Gray go undercover as a stripper and possibly get killed?"

_Shit. _That's not what he meant. He just wanted Cherry out of harm's way. Was that so hard for her to understand?

"Of course not."

"But they're one in the same. The CBI will send Gray. Alone with no backup. That's what you're asking me to do." Her eyes were heating up. He was pushing her, but he had no choice.

"She wouldn't be alone. The club will have surveillance with agents outside armed to the teeth."

Cherry gave a disdainful snort. "Not all problems can be solved with grainy video footage and a liberal dose of bullets. And the agents won't intervene if Gray or I are simply slapped around. They can't risk the sting for a simple assault."

Jane inhaled sharply at the mental picture.

Her expression softened at his tell. If Jane had been looking at her, he would have seen it. She gazed at him for a long time before getting up out of her chair. Jane sensed her movement and was sure she was going to get right in his face, point her dainty finger and tell him to go to hell. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck and hugged him gently. She placed a kiss on his jaw just under his ear and whispered softly to him.

"I'm glad you care enough to be mad."

It was the hug that got him. Her scent. Her closeness. The light, warm press of her body next to his. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply as he crushed her tightly against him. Her kisses continued, first along his jaw, to his chin, and finally to his mouth. The kiss was tentative and broke several times. Neither one had been prepared for this meeting. Neither one felt ready.

Jane pressed his forehead to hers. He smiled sadly. "You know I can hypnotize you. I'll make you walk right up to Lisbon and tell her no deal."

Cherry's laughter caught him off guard. She bubbled and giggled in his arms, making his smile bloom into a full-blown grin. She returned his grin and kissed him deeply, stealing his breath away as their tongues intertwined and she moaned softly against his mouth. Damn the sexy little minx.

She broke away briefly and gave him a small signature kiss, a sweet little epilogue. She looked into his eyes and smiled again. "If you ever hypnotize me without my permission," she traced her finger along his cheek, "I want a more interesting command than talking to Lisbon."

She tightened her hold on him, pressing their hips firmly together. She smirked when she felt his bulge betray him. He cupped her face and kissed her thoroughly, wiping that smirk off her face. She pushed herself into his mouth and hands and he silently shouted his elation at having her back in his arms.

When they finally separated, Cherry spoke. "I'm taking the assignment, Patrick. I can't let Gray do it alone. She needs me."

Jane sighed and took her hands, bringing her palms to his lips and kissing them softly. "I know. Do I have to ask for the obvious?"

She shook her head. "I'll be careful. I promise."

He gave a defeated nod.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Is there anything else?"

Anna Angel had been nothing but collected and professional during Cho's questioning. Both of them had. She explained her past employment with detached precision and Cho took detailed notes as she spoke. His questions had been concise, impressing Anna with his understanding and ability to make proper assumptions and conclusions. Her answers were immaculate, devoid of clouded emotional uncertainty and flush with details and an almost anthropological breakdown of working in the skin business.

When Cho flipped his notebook shut, he couldn't help but be proud of her. "No, Miss Sullivan. I think that's all we need for now." He paused. "I may need additional information at some point. Would you be available?"

"Naturally."

She was wearing her thick-framed glasses again, the ones that made her look like a cat. He gave no outward sign as he remembered the last time he saw them. They'd been arguing about twentieth century noir novels. His opinions had displeased her. He had heard his own hiss as she dripped hot wax on his back and asked him to repeat himself. He did. More wax. More hissing.

Still not going to amend his statement?

Never.

Very well.

Hot wax dripped onto his ass as a small hand reached around and stroked his erection firmly. Sweet Jesus, he planned to fight with this woman for the rest of his life.

Cho shook himself back to the present. She was waiting patiently. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table.

"Any plans for this evening?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes were following the contours of his biceps. When she reached his eyes, she gave him a tiny wink.

"I'm afraid I have a date tonight."

"Really?"

"Indeed."

He leaned in closer. "Anyone I know?"

She laughed softly. "Yes. And I'm sorry, but you won't approve."

"Capote?"

"Norman Mailer."

"That bastard."

"I'm sorry. But I love him and I won't let you come between us."

Cho shocked himself by chuckling. "I'm coming over tonight. If I find him there, I'll rip him in half."

Anna Angel rose from her chair and allowed herself to be led to the door. She paused in the hallway and leaned into his ear. "Rip him in half and you'll be sorry."

He didn't move a muscle. "Fighting words, little lady."

She peered at him over her black frames. _There's_ the look he was hoping to coax. "Then a fight you shall have."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby finished with Arianna quickly. She was so shaken up and jumpy, and being alone with him without Cherry made her even more fidgety. He patiently ran through his list of questions before smiling gently and telling her she could go. She smiled gratefully and leapt from her seat, speeding into the hallway where Cherry and Anna Angel stood waiting for her. Lisbon came out of her office again to thank them before they disappeared down the corridor. Rigsby could hear a few more whistles in their wake.

He walked out to the hallway and saw Grace as she was hanging up the phone. She got up and walked passed him, deliberately avoiding his gaze as she approached Lisbon.

"It took some persuasion, but they've agreed to see us," she informed the boss.

Lisbon nodded. "What did you tell them?"

"That we're sisters, we're desperate, and we're very good on a pole."

Rigsby clenched his fists.

Lisbon watched Grace carefully. "You're sure you can do this? We can't afford to loose this opportunity, Van Pelt. I need to know you can stay cool."

Grace nodded vigorously. "Absolutely. I won't let you down."

Lisbon nodded again. "Fine," she turned back towards her office. "Rigsby?"

Rigsby startled and turned towards her. "Yeah, boss?"

"My office, please."

Frowning, he followed, shutting the door behind him. He stood back as she settled behind her desk and leveled her cool green eyes on him.

"What can I do for you, boss?"

She continued to stare at him. "You can leave Van Pelt alone on this one."

"Pardon?"

She didn't even blink. "Do you honestly think that I'm unaware of your relationship, Wayne?"

Rigsby flinched and swallowed. His brain reeled. _Busted_. He tried desperately to think of a response that wasn't insulting to her or damning to them, but couldn't find so much as a syllable. So silence followed.

Her eyes softened. "Wayne, honestly. How long have you been with me? How much have we been through together?"

"A long time, boss. Through thick and thin."

"Exactly. So why did I have to deduce your relationship with Van Pelt instead of you coming to me about it? It needed to be resolved long before now, and now I have a male agent who came this close to telling a female agent that he forbids her from taking an assignment."

"I would never forbid Grace to do anything," he defended lamely.

Lisbon snorted. "Please. You think you've been clever this whole time, but you wear your heart on your sleeve. The meeting had you fuming. And just now you were hoping to pull Van Pelt aside and give her a piece of your mind. Tell me I'm wrong."

He was silent.

Lisbon sighed heavily. "You've given me a problem, Wayne. Now I have an agent who's acting like a boyfriend. You're not giving Grace her due as a professional. She chose this unit and she knows the risks. If you can't support her in her assignment, then two things will happen. One, I officially have to intervene and remove one of you from my unit. Two, Grace will kill you for your interference and overprotection. She'll think you see her as weak and incapable, instead of seeing it as love and concern." Lisbon sat back and let him chew on this.

"You need to let her do this, Rigsby. We'll be there to protect her every step of the way. And it will save me the headache of choosing one of you to leave."

Rigsby dragged the heels of his palms over his face, sighing in defeat.

She arched her brow. "We gotta deal?"

He looked her in the eye and nodded. "Yes, boss. We gotta deal."

"Good. Now get out." She turned back to her computer, signaling her dismissal.

He got up and turned to go. "Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"I should have told you about us. I apologize."

Lisbon looked up at him. To his surprise, she smiled. "I'm glad for you both. You seem much happier lately."

Rigsby smiled sheepishly. "I love her. And God knows why, but she loves me back."

"Don't sell yourself short, Wayne. You're a good man. Van Pelt is lucky to have you."

He ducked his head in embarrassment. "Thanks, boss."

Lisbon shooed him away. "Beat it. Go catch me some bad guys."

He shut the door behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23- Strong**

_Be strong. Be strong. Be strong. Be strong. _

Grace mentally chanted as the afternoon drew to a close. Her anxiety about the day's events had taken hold and she was valiantly trying to beat it down and replace it with cool confidence. She took a deep, cleansing breath. _Strength and power in, doubt and negativity out._ And again.

She tried to clear her head of the niggles as she sat at her desk. Namely Cherry, Lisbon and Wayne. It was so irritating. Why did they all have to treat her like an emotional liability rather than an agent? No one else on the team would have been shaken down that hard if they'd taken the assignment. Why did they have so little faith in her? Sure, she had some man trouble in the past, but she was a big girl and could take care of herself. She sat up straighter. _Strength in, doubt out. _

She'd show them too. Especially Lisbon. No, especially Cherry. Actually, especially Wayne. Hell, they'd _all_ see. She'll be the best damn fake stripper the world has ever seen. _Strength in, doubt out._

The biggest worry right now was Wayne. She hadn't given him a chance to weigh in about this whole situation. And with good reason too. She knew what was coming. He'd be furious. He'd tell her that she had no right to endanger herself like this. He'd throw Kevin in her face as proof that she couldn't handle herself. And worst of all, he'd insist that Cherry—a civilian and her annoyingly skilled sister—was better suited to the job. _Her_ job. She cursed silently. She dreaded this conversation, but as she closed down her computer and watched Wayne do the same, she knew it was inevitable.

When they met in the parking lot, he completely shocked her. They walked a discreet distance from each other until they came around the side of the SUV, out of sight of the CBI building, and suddenly she found herself pulled tightly against Wayne's chest and wrapped completely in his arms. A hug as only he could give. Deep, warm, safe.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered against her hair.

"Really?" her voice sounded so small as she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him tighter against her. Her anxiety drained out of her. Honestly, his hugs were the best medicine in the world. She no longer felt angry and alone in her fight. She felt supported. Loved.

He pulled back and looked at her, twirling a piece of her hair between his fingers. "Really. You're brave and strong and beautiful and I love you."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course I'm mad. I hate these bastards. I hate that they're killing women and forcing us to send you in to bring them down. I hate that you'll be dancing for strangers and risking your life," he paused. "And dredging up old memories."

"But you're not mad at me for agreeing to it?"

He smiled and brushed her nose with her lock of hair. "Never."

She smiled wanly and buried her cheek against his chest, sighing contentedly. "Thank you," she whispered softly. He tightened his hold on her. They stood that way for awhile, their hands gently sliding up and down each other's back. When Grace pulled away, her old wicked smile was back.

"I have a secret," she whispered conspiratorially.

"Tell me," he whispered back.

"I've never done a lap dance before. I've seen them done at the House, but I never gave one. I was too shy." Her eyes dropped flirtingly.

"I'm very glad to hear it."

She giggled and slid her hands lower. "Wanna come over to my house and help me study?"

Rigsby gasped as her hands massaged his ass. _Wow_. Hiding behind a car, groping his girlfriend, talking about studying and hoping for sex, he suddenly felt 17 again.

"God, yes," he moaned.

"Have you ever had one before?" she asked sweetly, her hands working magic as she started to gently pull and push him against her.

"Had one what?" What was she saying? Were they still talking? God, her nails were tapping on his belt.

"A lap dance," she prodded, sliding a single finger underneath his waistband.

He gave her a sheepish shrug. "Yeah. Once at my buddy's bachelor party. Lots of booze, couple of strippers. One of them gave me a lap dance."

Grace smiled at his embarrassment. A man couldn't get more adorable than Wayne Rigsby, she'd bet her retirement plan on it. "And? Did you like it?"

He looked very uncomfortable now and she loved it. Did he honestly think she'd hold his past sexual encounters against him? How cute could he get?

"Yes, I liked it. It was…stimulating."

Laughter burst from Grace's lips and she held onto him tight as mirth racked her whole body. Rigsby held her and grimaced at her obvious pleasure at his discomfort, giving her a tight smile that only made her laugh harder. Maybe it was the hard day they'd all had, maybe it was his marriage proposal and all the stress she felt from it, maybe it was just the fact that she loved him so much. Whatever it was, she could. Not. Stop. Laughing. She clutched him and shrieked until tears were streaming down her cheeks and her sides ached.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. She stood up straight and stroked his shoulders, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. Really."

He gave her another sheepish glance, which only made her want to hug him all over again. "_Honestly_," she insisted. "You're such a gentleman. And I'm laughing at today. All of it. I mean, I'm going undercover as a stripper. Tell me that's not a little funny."

Rigsby couldn't help it. Her laughter was contagious and her smile was beautiful. She didn't smile anywhere near enough. So he smiled back at her and allowed himself to see her point.

"Okay, yes. It's funny. You're the shyest girl I know with the hottest body in the world and now you have to shake it like a Polaroid picture for a bunch of horny businessmen."

Grace, who had just gotten ahold of her giggles, exploded. She gripped Rigsby like a drowning victim and screamed with laughter. He held her just as tightly to keep from doubling over as he roared with delight. Neither of them could breathe. Their faces were bright red and soon they were gasping harshly for air as tears pricked their eyes. As they caught their breath, Grace captured his lips with hers. The kiss felt clean and happy.

"Are you gonna carry my books for me like a good boyfriend?" she asked teasingly.

"Only if I get to test you on all the things you learn tonight," he teased back.

She hummed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "There will definitely be a quiz. You can be as strict as you want. I promise I won't cheat."

Images of Grace in a schoolgirl uniform flashed through his mind and nearly gave him an aneurism. Cheating. Punishment. Little white panties and knee-high socks. Christ, when did he become such a filthy pervert? Grace sensed he'd gone somewhere dirty and cupped him gently, making him groan.

"Who knows?" she said quietly. "There might even be an oral exam."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby tried really, super hard not to drive 90mph to Grace's apartment. He even caught himself thinking that their SUV could easily crawl over the cars in front of them as they waited at a red light. Only Grace could get him to seriously consider rolling over a bunch of Saturns and Kias like he was the star of a monster truck rally. Not that she knew his thoughts. In fact, she didn't seem that keen on waiting at all, for just as he was imagining crushing those cars like cans, her left hand reached over and massaged his groin.

"Fuck!" He jolted hard and turned to stare at her in amazement. "Jesus, baby. I'm driving."

Her hand didn't stop and he was already throbbing in her warm little palm. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Grace, please. I can't concentrate when you're--,"

"I'm getting into character," she teased him softly.

His eyes went flinty. "No." His voice turned rough and angry. "You're not. You won't touch anyone else like _this_." He bucked hard into her hand.

Grace giggled and moved closer to him, moving her hand to his belt buckle. "Never. But I still get to act just a little naughty…for you. Right?"

She loosened his belt and opened his fly just as the light turned and the traffic began to move. Rigsby gasped and opened his eyes wide, desperately trying to keep his blood in his brain, but it was too late. It had all flown south.

Then she blew his mind.

She pulled him free of his boxers and leaned across his lap, wrapping her sweet, pink lips firmly around his cock.

"Jesus-fucking-Christ," he moaned. The road blurred and the traffic noises tuned out. _Oh my God, Grace._ She was humming and moaning and making all kinds of sexy little noises that usually had him thrusting into her like an animal. Now he could only glance at her beautiful red head as it bobbed up and down on his lap. He felt mauled by pleasure.

She'd been practicing this a lot, learning how to relax her throat and take his thick length into her mouth completely. She'd been amazingly eager to learn and it destroyed him with ecstasy every time. Speaking crudely, she was already a stunning little cocksucker and she swallowed him better than any woman ever had, but her enthusiasm to learn what he liked and her obvious pleasure in performing it just flew him to the moon.

And now she had him so deep that when she wiggled her tongue she tickled the junction at his balls. As usual, adoration and profanity poured from his lips.

"Yeah, like that…oooh, fuck…baby, you're insane…ah!...suck me just like that…yes!..oh, my God…sweetheart, you feel so good…Gra-ah!...best I've ever …_fuck_!.."

Grace moaned louder and sucked harder, rewarding him. She _loved_ that Wayne talked so much during sex. Well, not so much talk. It was simpler than that. Purer. Just his inner monologue on speakers. The way he groaned her name. The way his swore so loudly. The way he made her feel like a porn star and a goddess all at once. She'd never had that. Most men in her past had grunted their approval. Rigsby nearly sang. His eyes went large and black, like he'd never been touched so perfectly in his life. He would stare at her longingly, even as their hips fused together and it was physically impossible for him to get closer. Every single time was like their first time. Exciting, new, mind-blowing. She couldn't get enough him and she was desperate for him to know that. So she deep throated him again, relaxing completely until he was well passed her tonsils.

Her name. _Graaaace._ Hissed in the sexiest voice she'd ever heard.

She was wet just from the sound.

No, not wet.

Soaking.

She moaned her lust, vibrating against him and making him buck against her mouth. More adoration. More swearing. She felt his fingers twine gently in her hair, almost cupping her head but nothing quite so entrapping. He would never. And for that reason, she would let him. Just like he would never expect a lap dance from her. So she would give him one. Hell, hundreds. He would never demand anything from her, and because of that she had become the most daring and giving version of herself imaginable. Words and acts that she had previously considered whorish, demeaning, embarrassing, she gave him gladly. His eyes, his reactions, his love, always made them worth it. They weren't even an effort. She loved doing them.

For him. Only him.

So she sucked him senseless while he drove and didn't let up until he was screaming and ejaculating deep in her mouth. She didn't let go until every last shudder had passed through his body. When she finally released him, he cradled her head and kissed her softly, one eye on the road the whole time. She sat back, watching him tuck himself back into his pants with one hand and steer with the other.

"You amaze me every day," he said quietly.

She smiled. "Me? I'm stunned at your ability to multitask. What you just achieved? No mean feat."

He was quiet, staring intently out the windshield. He suddenly looked a million miles away.

Grace reached over and touched his shoulder. "You okay?"

He didn't look at her, just continued to stare.

"I _am_ going to marry you, Gray." There was no question in his statement.

Grace said nothing, just let a small shiver of desire run through her at the possessive tone of his voice. But she didn't speak. She couldn't. She agreed with him, but her doubts about her future at the CBI still gripped her, so instead of saying one way or the other, she let his words hang between them.

Rigsby glanced over.

Her silence worried him somewhat. Perhaps that was a stupid thing to say out loud. He believed it with a certainty usually reserved for politics and religion, but announcing like she had no choice in the matter might have been a bad call_. Shit._ Should he apologize? Say he doesn't mean to push her? Assure her that it was still her decision? He didn't know. Suddenly her cell went off and broke the awkward silence his statement was swimming in.

She pulled out her phone and glanced at the ID before answering. "Hey Cher….yeah, I did…tomorrow afternoon at 2:00…You just wanna meet me there?...Actually, come to the CBI, they may want to wire us first…okay…sure…wait, why?...Ah, got it…Okay, we can go tomorrow morning…great…see you then. Bye, babe."

She ended the call and threw the phone back in her purse.

"What's up?" Rigsby asked, glad they had something else to talk about.

"Cherry. She just wanted to know when the audition was. She wants to meet me tomorrow morning before we go over there."

He cocked his head. "Why?"

She smiled at the windshield. "Wax."

"Wax," he echoed, not understanding.

She turned her smile to him. "We're going for a stripper job. We need to be…" she searched for a tactful word. "…bare."

Rigsby was fairly certain that, had his cock not been drained just two minutes earlier, he would have exploded in his pants. "Completely?" he croaked.

She smirked. "The whole kit and kaboodle. So to speak."

The filthy pervert in him came roaring back. He tried like crazy to stifle it. After all, he _loved _Grace's body just the way it was. The apex of her thighs had the prettiest dark red curls and they drove him crazy. He'd never been with a redhead before Grace and that cuffs and collar metaphor rang perfectly true with her. Red, through and through. Perfection. But imagining her waxed was a gap in his fantasy library. He'd never considered it before. Images were starting to conjure up faster than he could stop them and he knew that once he saw her smooth flesh, his tongue would worship it for hours.

But another thought occurred to him.

"Won't it hurt?" he asked.

Grace looked at him, noting the shakiness in his voice. _Heh heh._ He was already thinking about how it'll look. But he was Wayne, and Wayne cared more about her comfort than he did about his naughty thoughts. She squeezed his shoulder.

"At first, yeah. But it'll pass."

He accepted this, nodding his head slowly.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Tomorrow night, after the audition, I'll take you home and give you a peek."

Rigsby pulled into her apartment parking lot and killed the engine before turning to her and kissing her thoroughly. "Just a peek?" he growled.

She pulled him closer. "Maybe a glance."

"How about an interactive tour?" He nibbled her earlobe.

She giggled. "We'll see. Right now, I need your lap."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A chair from her dining set. Metal legs. Sturdy. Armless. Perfect.

Rigsby sat down and fidgeted while he waited for Grace, who was choosing something appropriate to wear. Several different emotions were running through him. Excitement: Obviously Grace dancing _for_ him, _on _him, made his brain short-circuit. Worry: She was practicing for an assignment that was dangerous. Rage: She was practicing for an assignment that would have her dancing on other men.

He tried to set the last two aside and focused on the excitement. She wanted to dance for him. No one else. She would never crawl on another man and mean it. Fuck the losers who drooled over her. She was untouchable. And he'd personally pistol whip anyone who tried. And soon this whole damn thing would be over and she could continue crawling and gyrating all over him for the rest of their lives. He just had to keep reminding himself of that and he could get through this. He heard Grace emerging from the hall and looked up. _Oh, fuck. _

Baby blue underwear set.

_I'm a sweet little angel_

Black heels.

_You know you want me _

Loose hair.

_I'm so deliciously fuckable_

Smokey makeup.

_Leave your wife, dream about me, jerk off to thoughts about me, stalk me, chase me down, love me so much you go crazy_

Rigsby was out of his chair and pulling her into his arms before either one knew what was happening. His arms shielded her from the invisible army of sexual predators that only he could see while his hands cupped every curve.

"Beautiful," he murmured, kissing her cheeks and forehead. "Too beautiful."

She smiled nervously at him. In heels, she didn't have to tilt up quite so much. "I look okay?"

He growled angrily. "Baby, I hate that you look this good. Every man who sees you is going to eye fuck you."

She winced at his words, but she knew he was right. They would stare. No, they would ogle. Gawk. Gape. Imagine touching her as only Wayne was allowed to. She buried her shudder of revulsion. _Fine. They can look all they want._ _ Just don't fucking touch me and we won't have any problems. _

"Should we get started?" She suddenly wanted to get this over with. What was going to be a fun little romp with her boyfriend had suddenly turned into a nauseating task. Damn these people and their nasty business. And damn herself for being such a sissy about it.

Wayne nodded and turned back, sitting in the chair in the middle of her living room. He looked uncertain. "Do you want us to act like strangers?"

She considered it. "Yeah, actually. I guess I should practice everything, including flirting with guys." She paused when she saw his forearms flex and his jaw tighten. She smiled and added, "I'll just pretend I'm meeting _you_ for the first time."

That got him. He smiled.

She sauntered up to him and gracefully sat sideways across his lap. She tried to imagine him as someone else, which struck her as ironic since she'd be picturing Wayne with every guy she spoke to at the club. She batted her eyes, looking up shyly through her lashes.

"Hi there, handsome. Want some company?"

Rigsby settled her more comfortably on his lap and smiled sweetly. He dragged his eyes appreciatively over her body, making a point of it. "Always. What's your name?"

"Marie." It came automatically. "What's yours?"

"Chris." Just as natural. "Can I buy you a drink, Marie?" His hands slid up her thighs.

She caught his hands in hers and giggled lightly. "Sorry, Chris. No touching. I want to, but house rules say no. Unless…" she gave him a shy/sexy/fuck me pout.

Rigsby was having a hard time following the house rules just now. "Unless what, Marie?"

"Well," she put her finger to against her lips in the cutest thinking pose he'd ever seen. "I could dance for you. You can't touch me, but I'm allowed to touch you." Her finger followed the skin along his collar. "I _really_ _want _to touch you."

Rigsby's mouth went dry. This was torture. He didn't know whether to say 'hell yes' he wanted a dance or order her to go put some clothes on. She was turning him on like all get out, and he _knew _that she'd have those horny businessmen coming in their pants if she flirted with them like this. But he remembered Lisbon's talk. _Support her. Help her through this. _He stowed his anger.

"I really want you to," he purred to her. He slid his hand down her back. Might as well get her used to guys not giving a damn about rules. "You sure I can't touch you?"

She pulled his hand from her back and brought it forward, walking her index and middle finger along his forearm and bicep. "I'm afraid so. Rules are rules. How 'bout that dance? I promise you won't be sorry." Her fingers continued to walk up his arm to his shoulder.

The cop in him noticed she was handling him beautifully. Flirty, firm, not letting him get away with too much. The man in him was a drooling, whimpering, sex-addled wreck. She could tell him to rob a bank right now and he'd do it. No problem. _Thousands of stolen bucks stuffed into dollar-sign bags? You got it, babe. Just keep touching me. Please God, don't stop. _

He nodded, giving his closest approximation to a sleazy leer. "Oh, you can definitely dance for me."

She giggled in delight and clapped her hands like a little girl. "Yay! I'm so glad you want one, Chris. You'll really like it. But," Her eyes grew wide and serious, again like a little girl. She crooked her index finger at him, beckoning him closer. He leaned forward and she pressed her lips to his ear. "You have to _promise_ to be a good boy."

Game over. That did it. If he'd been any other man, he'd have thrown her to the floor and fucked her breathy, sexy little brains out.

He drew the shakiest breath of his life. _Support her._

"I promise, Marie. I'll be a good boy."

She smiled a thousand-watt smile and slithered to her feet, unfolding her mile-long legs and standing in front of him. She quickly repositioned, throwing one leg over his lap and settling firmly against his groin.

He clasped his hands behind the chair, positive that they'd wander off and grope her without his permission. When she was anchored securely to his thighs, he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

"How do I start?" she whispered to him.

He smiled reassuringly at her. "Start slowly," he said, recalling the dance he'd received before. "Keep smiling. Keep acting like you want me."

"No need to act," she murmured, pulling herself forward and into him with her thighs. She smiled shyly, lightly scraping his cheeks with her nails. She undulated slowly, lifting her torso above his and arching towards his chests. Her breasts and abdomen pushed against him, just begging to be touched. He clenched his hands harder.

No touching.

He felt her thighs tighten around him and suddenly she swooped backwards, her back settling against his thighs. He groaned at the sight. Her legs wrapped around him, her naked body prone and straining against him, her groin shoved firmly against his. It was more than he could stand. His hands slid out and locked onto her waist.

Grace gasped and sat up quickly, her hands covering his on her hips. She looked startled, but she instantly smoothed her expression into a disapproving pout.

"You're not being good, Chris," she admonished sweetly. She gently pulled his hands away. As she set them on either side of his body, she lightly ground her hips into his.

He groaned again at the contact. "But you're beautiful, Marie. How can I not touch you?"

She giggled and stood up, slowly walking around him. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she traced a single finger along his arm, over his shoulders, into his hair, down the other arm. She faced him again, moving between his legs and sitting on his groin, facing away. She leaned back, pressing into his chest and clasping her arms backwards around his neck. Her ass rotated firmly into his bulge as her head dropped against his shoulder.

A growl rumbled deep in his throat.

She turned her head and whispered in his ear. "Am I doing okay?"

He wasn't sure he could push his purely-male reaction to her aside and critique her dancing properly, but that fact suggested she was doing a damn good job. His hands were positively burning with the need to touch her. He prayed her clients would have better manners than his as his hands slid up again to cup her breasts. She gasped and moaned against him.

"Do I stop Chris?" she asked breathily, arching into his hands. "Or do I let Wayne?"

His fingers felt her nipples harden through her bra. He growled again. "Let me."

Fuck the quiz. Marie gets an A+. She was the brightest student and the most talented stripper who ever lived. Now he wanted Grace back.

"Wayne," she sighed softly against his cheek, grinding herself harder into his body, demanding her lover, forgetting her client.

"Gray," he turned his head into her throat and sucked greedily, remembering not to bite down. He couldn't mark her from now on. His other hand came forward and cupped her. She jerked in his hand and gasped. Her light blue panties were already soaked as his fingers slipped underneath them. Her slick folds nearly made him bite her anyway.

"Baby, you're so wet," he whispered against her neck. She nodded quickly against him, pushing herself harder into his hand.

"Uh-huh," Marie's sexy little purr hit his ear and he gripped her tighter, letting his middle finger slid up and down her folds.

She whimpered and bucked against him. Jealous pride filled him. No man would ever know this side of her--his brainy little computer nerd of a sex goddess. She was wet and bucking and whimpering just for him. He groaned as his erection pressed forward, wanting to take his right.

She suddenly stood up and turned, quickly resettling on his lap and facing him once more. He gripped her thighs and cinched them tighter around him. He smiled up at her.

"So what are the rules now?"

She smiled back. "The rule is that anything you ask for is my command."

His breath caught in his throat. He didn't even need to think. "Rip my clothes off and fuck me in this chair."

His words made her hips jerk against his and her eyes flutter shut. She surged forward and kissed him hard as her hands quickly shoved at his jacket and pulled at his tie and shirt buttons. She managed to get everything open and off without breaking her kiss before she went to work on his belt. He kissed her back, matching her ferocity, and growling when she broke it and lifted from his lap. His frown met her smile as she stood up.

She reached behind her back and unhooked her bra, dropping it to the floor. Her breasts spilled from the cups and Rigsby clicked his teeth with predatory desire. She smiled as she slowly pulled her underwear down her long legs, stepping out of them gracefully. She held them on her index finger and arched her brow at him playfully.

"Here's one pair that won't be joining your collection."

He smirked as he shoved his pants and boxers to the floor, kicking them and his shoes and socks off while his eyes never left hers. "They're only safe for tonight."

She giggled and dropped them, climbing back into his lap and kissing him with more gentleness this time. He responded, letting her control this kiss and just enjoying her lithe, naked form pushing and writhing on top of him. Her high heels dug into the back of his calves and he hissed with pained pleasure.

Grace lifted up and away from him. Rigsby expected her to lower herself onto him, but she stayed still.

She leaned forward and whispered softly. "Take me."

He inhaled sharply and took the reins as she asked. He grabbed her hip with one hand and grasped his cock in the other. He pushed her down, stopping her when she made contact with his tip. They both moaned softly. He moved his shaft along her folds, teasing her and covering himself in her wetness. He watched with absolute wonder.

"I love how ready you are for me," he murmured, captivated by the glistening liquid that dripped down his erection.

Grace keened softly, dropping down just enough to take his tip before pulling back up. She loved the strain in her thigh muscles as she kept herself upright. It contrasted deliciously with the tingling pleasure between her legs. She looked down, she saw him gazing avidly at her curls, running his fingers through their softness before massaging her clit gently.

Her knees gave out at the sensation and she fell, impaling herself and taking all of him in one sudden stroke. The force drove his finger hard against her clit. The two sensations of being filled and stroked firmly caused Grace to instantly pulse around him. She gasped in shock as her orgasm rocked her body. She writhed and cried out loudly, scratching his shoulders as she clung to him for dear life. She sobbed and rocked her hips forward, pulling every last ounce of pleasure before falling against his chest.

She sat curled against him, panting and shivering, before she lifted her head and gazed at him in amazement.

"I…I just.." she was too stunned to verbalize it.

Rigsby stared back at her with the same awe. "You came."

She nodded weakly. She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself upright, never losing his eyes. "Yes. How did you do that?"

He shook his head, his hands sliding up her sides. "It wasn't me, baby." He slowly started to thrust against her, rocking against her sensitive nerves and making her moan softly. "It was us."

She nodded again. He was right. It was them. She'd never come so early or so often with anyone else. He'd never caused a woman to come so early or so often before her. _It was them_.

She sat up straighter and began moving on him, mimicking her dance movements as she swayed and arched into his body. Suddenly a lap dance wasn't the sleazy act she'd always thought it was. Suddenly it was an erotic gift she was giving him, proving her love and her desire by seducing him even as she fucked him. She arched backwards again, stretching out completely against his lap, giving him the perfect view of their joined bodies in front of him.

He was mesmerized. His hands caressed her everywhere, and as she bent backwards, he flicked his thumb over her clit again, hissing loudly when her inner muscles clenched him in response.

"Oh my God," she gasped loudly. "Please, Wayne. More. Do that again."

She planted her hands on the floor and pushed hard into him just as he began teasing her clit in earnest. Pleasure ricocheted through her arched form and she sobbed and jerked on his lap. Her muscled tightened around him everywhere, her thighs, her calves, and pussy, all locked onto him as he continued to massage her. She heard her name hissed over and over as he moved.

Impossibly, she felt her walls tighten again. Her voice came out in breathy sobs. "Don't stop. Please don't stop. Love you so much. Wayne. Please, don't—aaah!"

Her second orgasm ripped through her body with such violence that she lifted off the floor and held herself up with the constricting force of her thighs. She screamed as her walls molded to his cock, pulling and sucking him deep into her womb, begging him to release. She heard him curse loudly and suddenly she felt the chair disappear from under them. She was slammed against the floor, jarring him even deeper into her. He loomed over her, his eyes burning with frightening intensity as he propelled himself into her fluttering muscles. She cried out again at the change in angle and sudden weight of his body. Her nails clawed his arms as he movements prolonged her climax. He fucked her hard, straight down against the floor. He used the full force of his weight as he thrust madly inside of her. Primal grunts and cries poured from both of them as he took her fiercely.

"Love you, Gray," he moaned through clenched teeth. She gasped with each frenzied thrust and nodded desperately.

He felt his balls tighten. The intensity behind it convinced him that his orgasm would be so good it would border on pain. He rammed home one more time.

He wasn't wrong.

He went rigid against her, his muscles freezing in place as a tidal wave of overloaded pleasure tore through his blood and into his cock. He roared like a beast, clamping his eyes shut and ejaculating what felt like gallons of semen deep in Grace's body. He came down hard, shaking uncontrollably and gasping her name.

She held him, never once shrinking away from his violent display. She wrapped her arms around him, gently asking for his weight. He gave it to her, slowly sinking into the cradle of her hips and arms, his head falling to one side of hers. She felt their hearts slamming hard against their ribs and smiled to herself. They really knew how to give themselves a workout.

He shuddered and continued to breathe raggedly as she stroked his back, planting little kisses on his shoulder. When he spoke, his words were calm.

"Nothing will happen to you. I'll be there, all the time. I promise."

She continued to kiss his shoulder. "It's okay, Wayne. I'll be all right."

He pulled up and looked down at her. The look in his eyes left no room for debate. "No. I'll be there. Every single night. Outside, in the truck, watching every single move. Nothing is going to happen to you. Understand?"

Grace swallowed and nodded slowly. Her confidence was gently boosted by the knowledge that she had a man who wanted to protect her. Her guardian angel. With a Berreta. She smiled softly, tracing the red welts of her scratches on his arm.

"All right, Wayne. I understand." She lifted up and kissed the hard line of his mouth, wanting to soften it.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The hard line gave way to a smile and he kissed her back. "My little Grace Marie," he whispered, trailing kisses down her throat. She giggled and pushed at his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

"Grace Marie? How did you know that was my middle name?" she smiled up at him.

He dropped his eyes from hers. "It was on your Halloween party invitation."

"Was it?" she tried to recall. "You remembered that?"

He looked up shyly. "I remember everything if it's about you."

Grace blushed deeply and lowered her eyes. "So Chris is…?"

"_My_ middle name," he finished her sentence. "Wayne Christopher Rigsby."

"Wayne Christopher," Grace tested the syllables on her tongue. She liked them. A lot. She brought her eyes back to his. "Well, Chris. You didn't exactly follow the original rules, but I'll let it slide." She grinned as he reared up, getting to his feet and offering his hand to her. She accepted it and stood up.

She hugged his naked body to hers. "Wanna order a pizza and watch tv?"

He laughed. "Can we order a pizza, turn on the tv and then just make out?" he countered.

She giggled, a smaller, softer soft under his laughter. She gave him a wink. "Deal."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24- The Pink Pussycat**

Early the next morning found Jane, Lisbon, Rigsby and Cho running through logistics in the bullpen. Surveillance equipment was scattered all over the meeting table as the tech boys explained how to plant them. Basically, Cherry and Grace would need to stick cameras the size of quarters on strategic points in the bar and microphones in the offices and back rooms, away from the thumping music. There were five of the little video cameras on the table and Rigsby shook his head at the tech guys.

"More," he ordered stoically.

They gave him two identical squints. "More? Five is plenty for the initial placement. If we need more, we'll give them more." One of them explained.

Rigsby moved into his personal space and lowered his head right into his face. "Maybe you didn't hear me. I said more. Grace and Cherry are going to plant as many as possible as quickly as possible. I want every single inch of that place visible. We're risking their lives only for them to be discovered and killed because of a blind spot in our visuals. More video cameras. Now."

The tech guy looked terrified and nodded quickly. "More cameras. You got it."

The rest of the team tactfully looked away as Rigsby settled back down.

Someone cleared her throat behind them and the whole team turned around. Grace and Cherry were standing there, looking expectantly at the group. Jane and Rigsby both felt their hearts turn over. Far from their usual taste in fitted but understated clothing, both of the girls were dressed in outfits so sexy that they bordered on obscene. Grace wore a denim cut-off skirt that barely covered her ass and a loose tank top with her bra clearly visible underneath. Her hair was loose. Her eyes were heavily lined and smoky. Her lips were bright red. Her black high heels elongated her already sexy legs. On anyone else, the look would have been whorish. On Grace, it looked like expensive sex on a stick.

People in the bullpen were staring quite openly. That was the only thing keeping Rigsby from bending her over his desk and putting her on the business end of his groin. Instead, he stood with his jaw on the floor.

Jane wasn't much better off.

Cherry was wearing khaki short shorts, also barely decent. Her long dancer's legs scissored and winked as she walked in her platform wedges. She wore a pink baby tee that molded to her torso, highlighting her shapely breasts and slim little arms. It also lifted an inch or two from her waist, revealing her bellybutton, complete with a rhinestone belly ring that Jane knew was fake, but it still turned his brain to goo. Her hair was in two Lolita braids that fell flirtingly on each shoulder, making a perfectly respectable 32-year-old woman look like walking statutory rape. Even Jane felt guilty wanting her, what with her prancing around like a 15-year-old cocktease in lipstick and slutty shoes with no clue about the ideas she was giving men around her. She looked that young. She looked that innocently fuckable.

Basically, they were high-class porn personified.

For all this, there was only a momentary silence before Lisbon stepped forward. "Ladies. You look great."

Both smiled. Grace nervously. Cherry graciously.

"You don't think it's too much?" Cherry asked.

Lisbon shook her head lightly. The men shook their heads hard. Luckily, the boss didn't see them. "No, you look perfect." She glanced at their feet. "Will you be able to dance in those shoes?"

The sisters smirked. Their lips twitched in the same direction at the same time as only close siblings can. "We've danced in worse, Agent Lisbon."

Lisbon smirked back. Women and their universal understanding of beautiful, torturous shoes. "Then let's get to work."

They sat down and quickly ran through what the girls needed to do. Namely walk in, innocently look around, plant cameras when no one was looking, watch out for the club's own cameras, sit with the boss, convince him to hire them, dance their audition, flirt and be charming, get out.

Lisbon held up a slender piece of wire. "This is a bug. You'll need to wear one."

Cherry shook her head. "Unwise. They may have us strip as we dance. It might fall out or they might see it. Will it work if you attached them to our purses?"

Lisbon nodded. "It's not ideal, but if that's what you suggest, then that's what we'll do. Be sure to keep your purses near the boss at all times. Speak clearly, but keep in natural. We'll pick it up. Questions?"

The group was silent.

"Then ladies? You have an interview to get to."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sisters took Cherry's car. Rigsby, Jane, Lisbon and one tech guy followed close behind in the surveillance van. They drove to a seedy part of town, right up to a large building painted garishly pink. The Pink Pussycat, the sign read. A neon XXX in the only window, along with several neon girly silhouettes in stripper poses. Posters on the walls screamed at passersby about their nearly nude lineup and getting to 'Sneak a peek at the pink.'

Jane grimaced. He thought of the House of Ill Repute how classy and adult it was compared to this tacky, juvenile dive. Cherry's joint treated sex like art, the act as provocative, and men and women as equal in their roles. The Pink Pussycat clearly treated sex like a dirty little secret, women like whores, and horny men like blameless bystanders. It made his inner snob chafe. This place was the architectural equivalent of a facial cum shot. Sexist. Cheap. Disrespectful.

The van parked a discreet distance away while the girls made their way through the tinted, guilt-inducing doors.

The tech guy in the back of the van fired up the listening devices. "We're live. We should start to hear everything now."

Jane inched closer to the speakers in the cramped space. "Will we be able to speak to them?"

Lisbon shook her head. "We didn't wire them for it. We didn't want to risk anyone seeing the device in their ear," she explained. "Besides, there's nothing we can tell Cherry that she doesn't already know about these people."

Sitting in the driver's seat, Rigsby twisted all the way around to listen intently as the speakers began rustling with ambient noise from Grace's purse.

"You girls here for the audition?" A male voice dripped through the speakers.

A giggle. Girlish. Uncertain. Grace, maybe? "Uh-huh. Are we too early?" The three in the truck had a hard time recognizing the voice. It was so…flaky. So ditzy. None of them could identify which sister had suddenly turned into a giggling teenager.

"No, you're right on time. Damn, baby," the voice hid none of its sexual interest. "You sure gotta pretty little ass on you. Both of you."

More giggles. Rigsby's jaw set hard and Jane pulled a face of irritation.

"Thanks, mister. What should we call you?" Grace, definitely. Not so much from the voice, which was still cloyingly sweet, but from the question. Establish the who of the situation. Rigsby nodded his head unconsciously. _That's my little hottie cop_.

The man chuckled. "Eddie, baby. I bounce here. If you get this gig, we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Suddenly one of the video screens activated next to the tech guy's head. He turned to look at it. "Camera One is up. Looks like Van Pelt is distracting the guy." He fiddled with the resolution. "Mrs. Delaney put it up facing the door. We'll have facial IDs of anyone coming in from now on."

Jane smirked. _That's my little foxy spy. _

The video showed Eddie and Grace just inside the door. Eddie was deep in her personal space and making so secret of his appraisal.

"So what's your names, pretty ladies?"

Grace put her hand out shyly. "Marie. Marie Davis."

"Marie. Little red Marie," He glanced left of the camera. "And you, blondie?"

Another flirty giggle. They saw Cherry enter the frame as she sauntered towards the other two. Despite her jailbait outfit, her walk betrayed her confidence.

"Jane. Just plain Jane."

"Jane, huh? Girl, you too pretty to be a plain Jane."

"Well, Eddie, if I get a job here, you can call me any pretty name you want." Cherry continued to walk passed him, turning her head and blowing him a kiss over her shoulder. Eddie roared with laughter.

"You girls wait here. I'll go get the boss." Eddie continued to laugh as he headed down a hallway.

The team in the van heard Grace whisper. "Hurry. And watch out for their cameras. Just look bored and curious."

The bug in Grace's purse recorded movement as the girls wandered aimlessly around the front of the club, pretending to explore while surreptitiously planting the tiny feeds. Soon more video monitors started to activate. One from behind the bar with a clear view of the seats. One from the stage. One from the hallway where Eddie just disappeared. One looking at the payphone.

Excellent. Five in total in the main room. Between them, the team could see every vantage with almost no blind spotting at all. They watched the girls sit down at a cocktail table, crossing their legs and looking around vapidly. They looked every bit the part as a thin man in a sharkskin suit walked down the hallway and into the room. He was a handsome, forty-ish man with graying hair and tanned skin. Eddie followed close behind him, his bravado gone as he trailed his boss. The man walked over to their table and sat down with them.

"Ladies." He smiled and then offered his hand to each. "I'm Mr. Royko. Eddie tells me you'd like to interview to work here."

The sisters glanced at each other, smiling shyly before turning back to him. Grace spoke first. "Yessir. We moved to California a few months ago and have been looking for work this whole time."

"From where did you move?"

"Iowa."

"Ah," he smiled. "The Buckeye State."

It was Cherry's turn to giggle. "No sir. The Hawkeye State."

Mr. Royko paused a moment as he regarded Cherry. "Of course, how silly of me. There's no such thing as the Buckeye State."

He let the statement hang.

This time Cherry regarded him. "Oh, but there is, sir. The Buckeye State is Ohio," she paused and looked down shyly. Jane would swear to God that she didn't look a day over nineteen. She looked up again, like a student afraid to contradict her teacher. "A lot of people mix them up."

The team could see him smile calmly at her. Jane knew right then that the whole Buckeye-Hawkeye nonsense had been a test. After all he's a meth and concubine dealer. A man in his position would have to be careful. The girls in all of their bimbo-ish glory had passed his first test.

He cleared his throat. "Well, state nicknames aside for now, I'm afraid we don't have much room for new dancers at this stage. I'm only seeing you now because a sweet girl told me on the phone that I just _had _to and that I wouldn't be sorry." He glanced at Grace who in turn looked sweetly guilty, ducking her head away from his eyes.

"So I'll give you an audition, but I can't promise anything." He gestured to the pole on the stage. "I need to see one pole dance and one lap dance. I don't mind who does which. If I like what I see, we'll take it from there."

"I'll do the lap dance," Cherry spoke up. "Marie's in a skirt. It's harder to do. You okay with the pole, sis?"

Jane didn't look, but he felt the tension pour out of Rigsby from the front seat as the younger man watched the screens with unblinking eyes. His shoulders slumped completely, like he'd been holding his breath for the entire exchange. Jane felt good about his temporary reprieve. Grace would have to eventually, but Jane knew how hard it would be on the young couple. As for him, his heart swelled with pride. His few years on Rigsby made him less emotional, less insanely possessive. Cherry knew how to work these guys. And her profession meant she felt none of her sister's vulnerability at riding a man's lap. She was too good an actress, and soon she'd charm these idiots like they snakes they were. He watched her now as she dipped her head in feigned uncertainty.

"Am I dancing for you, Mr. Royko?"

"Ah, my dear. Miss?"

"Jane, sir. Jane Davis."

"My dear Jane. I need to watch to make a fair assessment. You'll dance for Eddie."

"Yessir." Not one hint of indecision in her voice. She had her game face on now.

The team watched her turn to Eddie. "Mind if I borrow you, Eddie?" Her voice dripped honey.

"Hells no, baby." Eddie fell down into a chair and slapped his thighs suggestively. "Take whatever you need."

She laughed in a tinkling, musical tone. Mr. Royko hit play on a stereo system and the club was flooded with loud, thumping pop music. The volume shot up in the van and the team winced as the tech guy grabbed the knob and turned it down.

"I'm afraid we won't hear much now," he told them unnecessarily. But there was no need to hear. The girls went to work and the cameras caught it all.

Grace was stunningly beautiful on the pole. She swooped and arched, using the pole as leverage to dip low and inviting, only to leap up, catch the pole between her thighs and bend backwards. None of the team had realized that when Grace said she practiced, she really _really _practiced.

Cherry was busy seducing Eddie. She smiled innocently as she ground her lithe little body against his, leaning backwards against him, changing angles, gripping him with her strong thighs and undulating into him, all the while glancing at him like a virgin would at a king. Eddie fell hook, line and sinker. His smile vacillated from grin to leer to smirk. The girl made him feel like a god. She also convinced him that, were it not for the rules, she'd fuck him silly right there in the club. Give up her virginity. Let him teach her what she was desperate to learn. Take her clean little self and make it dirty. She wanted him to do everything to her. Her body told him so. And damn if he didn't fall a little in love with plain Jane Davis right then and there.

Jane watched it all from the truck. Damn, she was good. She collected that man's heart in three minutes flat and didn't even break a sweat. He smiled. Jane couldn't really blame Eddie. Cherry was a tractor beam of lust. No man was safe.

Mr. Royko watched impassively from his vantage between the stage and Eddie's chair, alternating his attention from one girl to the other. His face betrayed nothing, but Jane could sense his approval. The girls might be hayseeds, but they knew what they were doing. Grace's acrobatics and Cherry's seduction methods would pay out well. They were both very pretty and fairly young. Their bodies were excellent. Jane saw his head incline ever so slightly. A tell. Mr. Royko had already decided.

Now all he had to do was say so.

He reached over and switched off the music. Grace stopped moving and Cherry dismounted from Eddie's lap. He instantly reached out and grabbed her hand. "Hey," he started automatically. Cherry gazed back at him sweetly. "Yes, Eddie?"

He stammered and awkwardly let go of her. "Nothin'. Thanks for the dance, baby."

She chuckled and flipped one of her braids. "Thank your boss, sweetie."

She turned away and left him shifting his hard-on as she walked back to Mr. Royko.

"Did you like us, sir?"

He clapped his hands lightly. "Very nice. You both dance beautifully."

"Thank you, sir." Grace jumped down from the stage and joined them.

Mr. Royko checked his watched and stood up suddenly. "I'm very sorry ladies, but I'm afraid I'm late for a meeting. If you'll excuse me." He made for the hallway and spoke over his shoulder.

"Eddie, schedule them both in for tomorrow night. Ladies, we'll see you then at 10pm." He turned and looked at them. "I'm a tough boss, but fair. You dance well for me, and I'll take good care of you." He gave them a nod and strode away.

The sisters looked at each other. The team glanced at each other.

They were in.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25- **It's Jane. Miss Cherry, if you're nasty.**

It was the evening of the sixth day. That pretty much equaled a week, right? Jane stood outside the House door and argued with himself that the proper amount of time had passed it was indeed okay to be there.

He hadn't said much to Cherry the entire day. After Eddie escorted the girls out, they'd gotten into their car and they all drove back to HQ. Lisbon gave them kudos for their good work and asked Cherry to come back the next day for further planning. She agreed and, without looking at Jane, kissed Grace goodbye and hit the elevator. He didn't get a chance to say a word. Grace had given him a kindly glance before hitting the bathroom to change and wipe the makeup off her face. Jane he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment on Rigsby's face. He snorted. Did the man honestly expect her to finish the workday dressed like high-end tail? Judging from his slight frown, he totally did. This amused Jane to no end. But his momentary distraction didn't last.

Instead his mind kept shifting to a young girl in braids and short shorts who giggled and pouted her way into other men's hearts. What a performer she was. He settled down into his couch and sighed heavily. In truth, he didn't like the young girl one bit. What he did like was Cherry's ability to play her. A very clever, knowing woman had morphed into a clueless co-ed. She was suddenly Spring Break, a sorority girl, a cute little tease. Jane would ordinarily never look twice at such a girl. He was forty, after all, and some girly games staled with age. He found such young women sweet in their own element, but tiring if they tried their charms on him personally. He could be their father. Go find a nice boy your own age.

But Cherry was his age. He could definitely come out and play for Cherry. Her little floozy act had him drooling and wanting to know what other parts she could play. And if he was up to the challenge of breaking her concentration. He grinned as he looked up at the imposing House door. Her playhouse. Full of costumes and props and naughty imagination.

Now if only he could muster the courage to knock.

He turned back towards the street, inhaling deeply and reworking what he planned to say to her when she opened the door.

"You could start by saying you missed me." Jane spun around and found her standing in the doorframe. She hadn't changed since the audition. Her outfit clung enticingly to her body and her braids framed her lovely face. She looked at him expectantly.

_Little Lolita. _

He smiled. "Who says I missed you?"

She snorted. "Please. You _so_ missed me."

He walked slowly towards her. "Did not."

Just as slowly, she backed into the entryway. "Did too."

He crossed the threshold. "Did not."

Their eyes never left each other. "Did. Too."

Jane closed the door behind him. "Who used my name today at her fake stripper audition?"

She continued to back away from him, her eyes daring him to come farther into her home. "Cherry _Jane_ Delaney. I used my own name and you know it. And anyway, who's on whose doorstep fidgeting like a terrified prom date?"

He took a serious step towards her. "You used your name, but you were thinking about _mine_. Tell me I'm wrong."

She tsked him. "So wrong. Jane's a girl's name. I didn't think about you. I haven't thought about you in six whole days."

He smiled wickedly. "Is that so? So you didn't think about my eyes?"

She mirrored his smile, stepping backwards up a staircase. The one, he noticed, that led to her bedroom. "Not once."

"You didn't think about my voice?" He pushed at her buttons with his vanity. He loved how riled up it got her.

" 'Fraid not."

He lowered his voice to a whisper as he followed her up the stairs. "You didn't think about my touch?"

Her breath hitched a fraction. _Ha!_ A tiny tell, but he'd take it. She held his eyes. "Sorry."

He suddenly leapt up two steps, the only two steps between them. He grabbed her by the ribcage and brazenly ran his hands down her sides, his thumbs grazing her breasts. He held her eyes. She didn't respond to his touch and he smirked at her burlesque stoicism to such close proximity. Nevertheless, he continued to manhandle her.

"You didn't think about my naked body on you?" He grabbed her palm and kissed it. "Inside you?" He hoped provocative words might startle the response he wanted. "Making love to you in your very own bed?"

He waited. His hands stilled on her body. Their eyes locked and neither one breathed. Her daring look slowly disappeared and a more earnest expression surfaced. "I guess that would depend." She finally answered him.

She finished her backward ascent and walked backward along the landing towards her room. He followed. How could he not?

"Depend?"

"On whether you've thought about me." She back up against her closed door, letting him trap her against it.

"Have you, for example, thought about my eyes?" He could swear that they changed color even as he looked at them. She did it on purpose. Her chocolate, coffee, whiskey eyes. He said nothing as he watched them.

"Or have you thought about my voice?" On cue, it turned low and husky. The pitch that moaned his name. The pitch that begged him for more. Harder. Faster.

"Or maybe even my touch?" Her fingers bypassed his vest and buttons and slithered into his shirt, tracing the skin around his navel. He felt his muscles clench at their gentle touch. She wasn't playing fair. She knew he was ticklish in that spot.

"Or my naked body…" she was almost moaning now, undoing a single button on his shirt, giving her more room to roam across his abdomen. "On you? Around you?" She leaned up to his ear. "Squeezing you so hard that you call me Cherry Jane?"

He flinched first. Damn it all. He gasped loudly against her shoulder and suddenly their little game was over. The loneliness and sexual frustration he'd accumulated over the last six days boiled over. His arms shot out and pulled her to him. His lips locked onto her throat and sucked hard as his hands slid inside her shirt, needing her skin. She mewled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him hard against her.

"Patrick," she whispered. Her knee hooked on his waist. His hand slid down her thigh and gripped her ass. His other hand moved to her head and wrapped into her braid. He groaned against her neck. God, her taste. How the hell did he manage six days without it? He licked his way up her throat to her candy-colored mouth and riveted his lips to it. His tongue asked no permission as it pushed passed her lips and explored the warm sweetness behind them. Nothing, _nothing_ had ever tasted this good. He pushed her hard up against her door, punishing her for winning, punishing her for her sexy, bewitching ways. He growled with victory. She might have broken him, just like every other man who looked her way, but dammit, _he_ was the one pressing her against the wall and kissing her senseless. _Him_. The alpha male in him felt positively smug.

Suddenly his head was pulled back as she yanked him a little painfully by his hair. She jutted her chin defiantly at him. "Admit it," she ordered.

He smirked against the pain and the challenge. "I missed you," he gave in finally.

She grinned as the sauciness left her and honesty flooded her eyes. "I missed you," she reciprocated.

She reached behind her, groping for the doorknob. She found it, opened the door and dragged him inside.

They had some catching up to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well?" Grace was getting a little weirded out.

No response.

"What do you think?" Seriously, was he broken?

Rigsby didn't even blink.

She pulled his chin up and forced his eyes to hers. "You've been staring for a while now. You gonna say anything or what?"

But his eyes stayed wide and disbelieving as his fingers continued to caress her. They were lying on her bed. As promised, she'd brought him home, stripped naked and given him an interactive tour of her newly-waxed skin. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak English ever since.

And oh, man, it had hurt like a bitch. Cherry, being a dancer, had it done regularly. Under the arms, the legs and the private bits. She was used to it. Grace, aside from having her legs done once in college, was a wax virgin. They started with her legs. Okay, so that hurt, but she only flinched a little. No biggie. They then did under her arms. Youch. Okay, so that was a little worse. But she still held it together.

Then came the privates.

Lord Almighty, was pain supposed to go that high? She had shrieked with every rip. And there had been several. God, how did women do that every month? It was torture! And she felt so weird afterwards. She body hadn't looked like this since she was twelve. She found it pretty, but she also found it a little embarrassing. A little…unwomanly. She was interested to see Rigsby's reaction to it.

Well, now she had it.

He was entranced. He was absolutely enthralled. He circled and traced her body with his finger like he would a curvy sports car. She skin was so shiny. So smooth. He slithered up and down the bed, looking at her from every angle until she finally pinned him and straddled his chest.

"Helloooo? Earth to Wayne? You're creeping me out over here."

He stared up at her and finally spoke. "I've got the sexiest girlfriend in the whole world."

She rolled her eyes at that. "Please."

He shook his head. "Seriously," his hands kept roving. "I've never been with a woman who…" He looked up guiltily, not sure if he should be talking about past lovers. She smiled reassuringly at him.

He looked down at her sweet little center spread across his chest. "I'm afraid I don't have a choice here."

She cocked her head at him. "Don't have a choice to what?" And suddenly she gasped loudly as Rigsby shot himself through her legs until his head settled firmly between her thighs. His hands gripped her ass, pulling her down and fusing her pussy onto his mouth. She hands shot out and gripped the headboard as she keened loudly. He opened his mouth wide and closed down on her, his tongue flicking along her folds, his teeth scraping and gently biting down. She cried out and bucked against the unexpected attack. She felt so exposed. So vulnerable. As much as she liked oral sex, she'd never sat on a man's face before. It had seemed so dirty. So greedy. So smothering. She couldn't imagine men enjoyed it and thus she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy it.

But she had no choice now. She made a half-hearted attempt to escape, but Rigsby tightened his hold on her and growled disapprovingly, sucking her clit into his mouth and destroying her objections with blinding pleasure. She sobbed and bucked harder, her climax barreling towards her at a frightening speed. She broke and spasmed violently on top of him, moaning brokenly and gasping huge lungfuls of air. Suddenly she was flipped onto her back and her lover loomed over her. Her overstimulated nerves were given no reprieve when she felt his thick length position at her entrance and plunge deep. He reared back on his knees, dragging her hips up to his and thrusting hard against her. His gaze stayed locked on their joined bodies, his cock sliding in and out of her smooth, exposed folds.

Grace watched his awe with equal fascination. As he disappeared into her body, he groaned huskily and immediately pulled out and thrust back in, amazed at their union and how visible it was now. He pushed as deep as he could go, cinching her legs tighter around him and using his weight to sink his cock completely. Grace moaned loudly as her body was filled with him completely. He couldn't stand it. Her voice was so sexy and the view so erotic, he plunged once more and came hard inside of her. It racked his whole body and only one word escaped his lips.

"Grace," he gasped. He sat back on his haunches and pulled her up into his lap. Her legs and their joined bodies locked them tightly together. He peppered slow, wet kisses down her neck and around her breasts. She leaned back into his arms and sighed with pleasure. She literally felt drugged with sex. She honestly couldn't recall a single reason why she hadn't slept with Rigsby from the first moment she saw him. Who cares if they worked together? Who cares if she barely knew him? Who cares if she'd spent years carefully building an emotional moat around her heart? She should have jumped this man on Day One and spent the last nine months ravishing him to death. So much time wasted. So many pointless lonely nights.

She felt him nuzzle between her breasts and laugh softly.

"What?" she asked, sliding her hands down the muscular ridges of his back.

He looked up at her, his hands cupping her ass and pulling her tighter against him. "I hate to be such a guy, but your wax job is hot."

She laughed and slapped his shoulder. "You're right. You _are _being such a guy." She yanked him by the neck, pulling him out of his sitting position and tumbling him back onto the bed. "But I'm glad you like it."

He smiled and gazed down her body. "So tell me why you didn't want me underneath you."

She blushed and looked away. Did they really have to talk about that? She gave in, after all. She sighed softly. "I just don't want you to feel like you…you know…have to."

She suddenly felt all puritanical and prudish.

He squinted at her. "Have to?" His eyes widened with understanding. "Baby, you think I don't want to?" His arms tightened around her.

"No," she answered him too quickly. "But me sitting on you…it can't be…very…oh, God." She searched for words that wouldn't make her go any redder than she already was. "It can't be very comfortable with me on top like that. So it's okay if you prefer me…" Nope, the blush hit bright red. "…underneath you."

Rigsby stared. So that was it.

He dropped his forehead against hers. "I want it any way you'll give it to me," he whispered hotly.

She looked down. "I just don't want you to feel obligated."

His laughter surprised her. "Gray, nothing I do to you is an obligation. Trust me." He paused, still seeing her uncertainty. He decided to turn the tables.

"Do you feel obligated when you go down on _me_?"

Her head shot up. Her eyes went round and disbelieving. Could he seriously think that? "No. Never. I love doing it to you."

He knew that, but seeing her shocked by the very idea filled him with glee. He twirled her hair. "Then why can't I love doing it to _you_?"

She gave him a tiny smile. "I've known men who didn't. That's all."

The muscles in his neck flexed in anger. He gave her a brief, hard kiss. "They're assholes who didn't know what they were missing." He anchored his leg around hers, pulling all of her into him. "And you're mine now. So fuck them."

Her smile broadened and she nuzzled her face against his. "Yes, yours," she murmured softly.

He let her explore his face with hers before pulling back slightly and smiling. "You almost made me explode right there in the office today. Warn a man before you stroll in looking like a walking felony."

Grace chuckled. "The House girls. Kaiko and Babet talked me into it. It's a novel experience walking down the street half-naked. I recommend you try it sometime."

Rigsby laughed at the thought of him in a tank top and ass skirt. "Yeah, I'll get right on that." He rested his hand on her hip and started tracing small circles. He spoke softly. "You were amazing in there today. I hardly recognized you."

She brushed off his compliment. "You have to say that. You're my boyfriend."

Something shot through his eyes so quickly that Grace almost didn't see it. She tried to identify it, but it was gone before she could look more carefully.

"No, it's true. You were a genius. And your dancing knocked 'em dead. You'll have every man alive eating out of your hand."

Knowing he didn't really need it, she reassured him. "Fine, if it gets the job done. But there's only one man alive that I want." She kissed his forehead. "And guess what? He's not the type to frequent skin clubs."

She started tickling him lightly on his sides. He flinched and grabbed for her hands. Soon they were laughing and squealing and wrestling on the mattress, fighting for dominance and using every tickle weakness they knew about each other to win.

In the end, neither won. And both won.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So how did they do?" A purr in his ear. Long nails scraping down his back. Goosebumps rising in their wake.

"Who?"

"Cherry? Gray?" The nail pressure increased slightly at his lack of attention.

"The boss said they did well. Surprisingly well, in fact." A cold, smooth object sliding up and between his legs. _What the…?_

"I'm glad to hear it." The object met the apex between his thighs and gently pressed upwards into his taint. He flinched. _Dammit_. He hated when he flinched.

The object pulled back an inch.

"We can always stop if you're uncomfortable." The voice assured him soothingly. "We can always watch tv. Get some takeout. Talk about the weather. A normal date between normal people."

He cursed at her. "Fuck normal. Shut up and push."

The object pressed sharply into the soft tissue just behind his balls and stars exploded behind his eyes. "Don't sass me, Kimball. I don't respond well to it."

"Then you chose the wrong guy." More pressure. More delicious, agonizing pleasure.

"Oh, I don't think so. He just needs to learn some manners."

Cho crushed his eyes shut and ground his teeth. "JFK was _not_ killed by the mafia."

A single, light whip flicked over his shoulder and the pressure between his thighs spiked.

He gasped loudly. "Holden Caulfield needed to quit whining and join the military."

Oooh, that got her. The whip, harder this time, slapped across his back and up over to his collarbone. She had amazing aim. He couldn't decide if the pain overtook the pleasure or the other way around.

"Umberto Eco can write circles around Dan Brown."

Nothing happened.

Cho opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder. He was met with two glorious eyes framed in thick, catlike glasses. The whip flicked back and forth in one hand while the other was embedded deep between his legs. He looked at her expectantly just as she looked at him.

Anna Angel smiled serenely. "That, Kimball, is something we can entirely agree on."

Cho cursed silently and quickly regrouped. "Marlon Brando's autobiography was self-indulgent crap."

The whip caught him just under the arm. _That's fuckin' more like it_.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26- Oxygen**

Another wave of nausea. The deep, foul taste of bile rose up in her throat and she tried like hell to suppress it, but it was no use. Grace pitched forward over the toilet, violently sick. She sat up and gasped quietly, hoping no one walked in. The last thing she needed was her female colleagues knowing that the butterflies in her stomach had decided to jettison her breakfast. She grabbed some toilet paper and wiped her mouth. _Goddammit._ Why did she feel this nervous? It was just a case. She just had to go in, do her job, and get out. It shouldn't take more than a few weeks, tops. Wayne would always be nearby and Cherry would be there to help her. What was so awful that she actually threw up with worry?

She took a deep breath and stood up. There. All gone. Puking butterflies were hereby banished and nerves of steel would take their place. _Strength in, doubt out._ She flushed the toilet and stepped out. After a quick rinse of water for her mouth, she strutted out to the bullpen.

Cherry was already in deep conversation with Lisbon. The boys sat around the meeting table and listened intently, raising points and questions throughout. Grace sat down quietly, praying her absence wasn't particularly noted.

Lisbon gestured to the table, which was covered with more gadgets. "We have more cameras here as well as mics. We need them everywhere, anywhere you can get to. Especially Royko's office." She paused. "What were your impressions of him?"

Cherry turned to Grace, deferring to her. Grace appreciated that. "The man has a very calm exterior, but I don't think it goes very deep. He gave a distinct controlling vibe. Smart too. I don't think flattery will work on him. I think our best strategy is the sweet little redneck girls who don't know the rules. We should be able to get into different areas, at least for the first few nights. They'll chalk it up to us being newbies."

Lisbon nodded. "Cherry? Your thoughts?"

Cherry gazed down at the desk pensively. "Mr. Royko is indeed a very controlling man. He's married. He has at least one child. Neither of whom have ever been to the club. He wouldn't allow it, he'd consider his profession too unclean for his family. He puts women in two categories: whores and saints. His mother, wife and possibly daughter would fall into the second. No one else. He has the persona of a confident and well-do-to gentleman, but he feels acutely inferior around other men of power. This makes him dangerous. He won't tolerate disobedience of any kind."

The team glanced at each other in surprise. Cherry continued.

"The girls sold in the slave ring won't be anywhere near that place. He'd find that distasteful. But the meth lab might be. It's a big enough building and the outer supports suggest there is a basement." She paused and looked at Lisbon. "Has your narcotics team looked for the venting system outside?"

Lisbon looked at Cho. Cho shrugged. "We're not sure. Why?"

Cherry shrugged in return. "Johnny from my troupe is from Fresno, the meth capital of the world, they say. He says that the biggest problem for meth labs is the smell. Ventilation is the most obvious sign of a lab nearby."

The team was silent.

Cherry's eyes widened a bit, as if she'd spoken out of turn. "I was just curious."

Jane spoke up. "I'm interested to hear how you drew these other conclusions about Mr. Royko."

Cherry looked over to him. Their eyes met and held. Their knacks for razzle-dazzle and astute observation rose up in recognition of each other. The fake psychic and the burlesque dancer already knew the answer to his question, but he wanted her to explain out loud, for the rest of the class. She smiled.

"The third finger on his left hand has a ring indentation, but no tan line. Hence, he doesn't wear his ring during the day at the club, but slips it on when he goes home. This suggests that he doesn't want his employees to know much about his personal life. It also suggests that he doesn't want his job to taint his marriage, even symbolically. He's insecure around men of power because he keeps weaker men at his side. If Eddie is any indication, his other male employees will be all bravado and no real threat to him."

Jane smiled knowingly. "And the child?"

Cherry lowered her gaze again. "Royko is old school. In his mind, men of power are also men of virility. Children would feature heavily into his identity. Sons in particular. He has kids, that much I know."

Lisbon's eyes narrowed. Jane knew that look. He was on the receiving end often enough. It meant she believed Cherry, but didn't like her chain of reasoning. It was too vague, yet too assured. Grace's observations may not be as deep, but they were based from fact. Cherry's observations were startlingly specific, but stemmed from intuition. Cops hate that. Lisbon hated that.

She questioned it now. "How sure are you?"

Cherry casually rested her elbow on the table. "Very."

"You know strip club owners that well?"

Cherry rested her chin in her palm. "I know men."

Cho snorted. "We're that easy to read, huh?"

Cherry was instantly contrite. "No disrespect meant, Agent Cho. I mean to say that I've studied men as my target audience my entire life and have come to certain conclusions about them."

Rigsby smiled. "Meaning we're simple-minded when it comes to women?"

Cherry smiled back. "Simple-minded is the wrong phrase. Men are _forthright _when it comes to women. Direct. There are only a few buttons that need pushing, so to speak."

"Like a toaster?" Jane offered helpfully.

Cherry chuckled. "Yes, a little. If a woman is toast, then men are definitely toasters. Direct, as I said."

Lisbon, remembering this conversation with her team so long ago, couldn't help herself. "Soooo, women would be like…?"

Cherry squinted at her question. "Women as toasters? Oh, no. Women would be _much_ more like…let's see…some ridiculous contraption…"

A smile cracked on Grace's lips. "An accordion?"

Cherry brightened. "Yes, exactly. An accordion. Head-spinningly complicated with lots of bells and whistles."

The whole team chuckled while Cherry looked on confusedly. "What?"

Grace patted her hand. "You just agreed with Jane on the complexity of men versus women."

"Did I now?" The psychic and dancer appraised each other again.

Lisbon tapped her pen on the desk and everyone came back to the original discussion. "Anyway," Cherry said. "We'll keep our eyes open. My guess is that we won't even see Royko that much during business hours. I can't see him sullying his reputation by sitting amongst his horny clientele. Eddie and the other bouncers. These are the men we need to keep sweet."

Rigsby couldn't hold his pained curiosity back any longer. "So, just how much stripping is involved at a place like this?"

An uneasy silence fell over the group. They all had varying degrees of knowledge about who was dating whom at this table. The women's nudity felt like an embargoed topic. Leave it Rigsby to blow through an embargo when it came to worrying about his girl.

Cherry saved them from too much discomfort. "At worst? We'll be required to strip down to bare tits and a thong on stage. Forgive my language. As for lap dances, clubs usually have a quota for girls to fill each night she works. Usually two or three. For that, we can probably keep more on. By the way, the House will provide our underwear for the duration of this job. I'll make sure Gray wears outfits that do the job but keep as much covered as possible."

Grace blushed. God, did she hate her nudity being discussed in the cold light of day by her colleagues, boss, boyfriend and sister. It was like a nightmare. The kind of nightmare where you show up to school naked without your homework. She kept her chin up though. If Cherry could blithely mention their bare tits, then by God, she could listen to it without wilting like some scandalized Victorian prude with a case of the vapors.

Well, that was it. Nothing was left now except to wait for night to fall. Cherry stood up. "If it's all right with you, Teresa, Gray and I will head over to the House to practice and suit up. We can meet you back here at 9:00 to grab the camera equipment."

Lisbon also stood up and offered her hand. "That's fine." The women shook hands. "Thank you again, Cherry. You have no idea how valuable your help has been."

Cherry waved her off. "It's nothing. I'm glad to be of use."

The sisters gathered their things, passed furtive glances with their respective men, and left the bullpen. They had a job to prepare for.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grace and Cherry drove in relaxed silence, Cherry behind the wheel, her eyes never leaving the road. To anyone else, they were just two women staring blankly out the windshield. But Grace knew better. Cherry had that weird talent of watching people without looking at them. She knew she was being quietly scanned. She cursed inwardly. Growing up with Cherry had been exactly like starting work with Jane. When she met him at the CBI for the first time, she couldn't believe that, after finally escaping the nosy, sweet intuition of her sister her whole childhood, she had to share an office space with a man of the same ilk. Were these people suddenly growing on trees? Seriously.

Not that Grace didn't love her sister. On the contrary, she and Cherry were very close. But she felt acutely uncomfortable with her professional and familial worlds colliding like they had in the last few weeks. Around Cherry, she'd always felt like the kid sister. The kid sister who blushed when her big sister knew she bought cigarettes and smoked exactly two of them behind the gym before gagging and throwing the pack away. The big sister who knew from the minute Grace walked in the door that she'd kissed a boy for the first time. The big sister who knew…_everything_. It used to drive her crazy. Then the whole Kevin disaster happened and Cherry suddenly became her protector as well as her mind reader. She rooted herself even more deeply into Grace's life. Her parents should have protected her, only Cherry did. Her lovers should have tried to understand her better, and before Rigsby, only Cherry did. Her friends didn't tease her and try to bring her out of her shell, only Cherry did.

She played so many roles in Grace's life. And Grace was grateful. And annoyed. And flattered. And suffocated. But then she got her job at the CBI and started to build a life separate from the life she had with Cherry. It was very liberating. Now Cherry was involved in that too. She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

The air was heavy with Cherry's scrutiny. Grace didn't feel like waiting for her question.

"Just ask me, Cher."

Cherry glanced over quickly. "Has he asked you to marry him? Is that why you've been so distracted these passed few days?"

Grace sighed. "Yes, he has. He loves me, I'm crazy about him, and he wants to get married and have kids asap." She paused and shot a small smile at her sister. "He wants to make kids exactly like Lila, he said."

Cherry's eyes melted. "He wants to make kids like _you_, Gray. That man loves you so much, it hurts to look at him. It pours off of him, you can almost see it. _Especially _when he's looking at you." She glanced at Grace again. She noticed her younger sister's blush.

"What did you tell him?"

Grace sighed. "I asked for time."

"Why?"

"You already know why."

It was Cherry's turn to sigh. "The job?"

"The job."

"So, what's the best of the bad scenarios?"

"The best?" Grace snorted. "The best scenario is that I leave the department and find some nice, safe IT job somewhere far away from the CBI. I can marry the sweetest man alive, have his kids and know I won't get shot while I'm carrying them. Meanwhile, I give up my badge and try not to die from disappointment."

Cherry winced. "And the worst scenario?"

Grace's chest instantly went tight and achy. "I continue to see Wayne on the sly with no hope of taking our relationship further…or... I give him up completely."

Cherry's chin jutted and Grace smiled wanly at one of her sister's few tells. Anger. Her chin always jutted in righteous anger. "You can't give him up, Gray."

Grace looked down at her lap. "I know. It would kill me. I couldn't bear it…I'd…" She felt tears welling up. "I couldn't live without him. He's my…" She couldn't think of any word strong enough. "He's my oxygen."

Cherry smiled sweetly. "Your oxygen. I like that."

Grace gave a small laugh. "Why?"

"Because," Cherry explained. "Because you're obviously his fire. His hot, lively, red fire. He's an arson specialist, after all. You attract him on such an elemental level that I doubt he's even aware of it. You warm him, alight him. And if you ever left him, you'd burn him beyond recognition. He'd never recover. He _needs _you. But, you need him just as badly. Fire needs oxygen, or it dies."

Grace absorbed her analogy and found it spookily accurate. "So where does that leave me?"

"It leaves you with a good man, an understanding boss, and a job that you love. There has to be a way to make them all work together. We just have to find it." Cherry reached over and squeezed her hand.

Grace smiled. She couldn't help it. Big sis Cherry to the rescue. Again.

"Cher?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Sometime soon, not now cuz it would be weird, I want to hear about your relationship with Jane."

Cherry inhaled slowly. "Yes, I owe you that. But you're right, it's for another time. Right now, let's just dress up like trashy skanks and have the House boys shove dollar bills in our underwear."

Laughter filled the car as they turned onto West Washington Avenue.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27- Snow in Iowa**

Grace looked down at the outfit laid out on her bed at the House. She smirked. This was Anna Angel's doing, she was sure of it. It was just the kind of thing she wore to drive the House clients crazy. It was pretty darn slutty, but at the same time, it didn't show much. It insinuated. It promised. It was a dirty little tease, this outfit.

Grace liked it. How could she not?

As she began to undress, her thoughts drifted back to Cherry's observation. _Fire and oxygen. She and Wayne_. As her clothing came off and the outfit slowly went on, she tracked the analogy more thoroughly in her mind.

Her little flame, until recently so small and undernourished that almost no one saw it. But it was there, flickering under the surface. That flame was her strength, her willfulness, her pride, her bravery, her silliness and her love. She loved it and tended it as best she could, but like all small fires, it needed a patient hand and lots of attention. Then a breeze came into her life; a light, sweet, blue-eyed breeze that blew carefully across her, just hard enough to let her flame grow. Become bigger. Hotter. Bolder. And then suddenly she was set ablaze.

_Wayne. _

Cherry had been right. He _was_ an arson specialist and he understood fire better than anyone. He loved its beauty and power, but respected its destructive abilities. And he saw fire in Grace. His presence made her burn in ways she'd never thought possible. Resting in his arms at night, she glowed with a wonderful calm, and suddenly she was the red coals in a sleepy little campfire. When he kissed her, her little flame was swept into his updraft, feeding her desire and building her up to a frightening height. When he made love to her, that pure oxygen of his love hit that flame and sparks flew in every direction. They scattered everywhere and instantly combusted, becoming a raging wildfire that neither of them had any interest in controlling. It ravaged everything in its path, just as they ravaged each other with a scorching intensity. In the aftermath, the wind died down and the flames retreated. There was nothing left but satisfaction and smoke.

But without him? She would not only flicker. She'd extinguish completely. There would be nothing left of her but cinders and ash. A ruin. A ruin like those her lover sifted through so carefully, looking for answers about the life that once thrived in the rubble. She could imagine his hands carefully exploring the charred remains of her. He'd bend low to the ground, his fingers pushing into the ash and leaving lovely, accidental designs in their wake. His brow would furrow, his eyes would squint. He would reconstruct her in his mind from these piles of gray. He would ache knowing that no amount of oxygen could bring her back now. She was gone, carried by the wind instead of being sustained by it. Without him, she was nothing.

Cherry was right. She'd die without him.

Whatever her decision about her future, it would include him. There was no other alternative. She knew, as she slipped on the last piece of her sexy little ensemble, that Wayne was her priority. She might have traveled all the way to California for a job, but her destiny was to find Rigsby. Lisbon could transfer her. She could spend the rest of her life in research or computers. She realized she didn't care. She needed oxygen. She needed to burn. Her little flame was no longer enough. He'd turned her into a bonfire and that's how she wanted to stay. Bold. Silly. Brave. Loving. Loved.

She stepped back and looked into her giant gilded mirror. Watching herself, she reached up and slipped her hair into two ponytails, one behind each ear. She grabbed Anna's pair of thick, black-framed glasses that had accompanied the outfit and put them on. There.

She took in her new look.

A little white shirt open and tied at the waist. A blue push-up bra that bunched her cleavage high onto her chest, clearly visible. A little blue and gold striped tie tucked seductively into the bra. A miniscule plaid skirt tied at the side, matching blue underwear peeking out at the hip. White knee socks. High heeled Mary Janes. A rosary bracelet hanging enticingly off her wrist. Glasses. Ponytails. Candy-colored lipstick.

She had to admit it, she looked good. She turned from one side to the other, taking in each angle. Anna had been very clever. The sexiness of this outfit stemmed from the fantasy it induced. To remove the shirt or skirt would ruin the effect. She was fairly sure men would want her to stay this clothed. While trying to grope her, no doubt, but at least she didn't feel naked in this getup. And it was more than that. The schoolgirl persona was supposed to be shy and demur. Grace could definitely pull off shy and demur. As she watched herself, she experimented by dipping her chin and pouting. She looked over her frames as she'd seen Anna Angel do so many times. She twisted her toe into the floor, making one leg wink next to the other one.

Yep, definitely. She was a sweet little schoolgirl.

She smiled and suddenly wanted Wayne there with her. She wanted to twist a lock of her hair with one finger, chew bubblegum, and pin him with a seductive Fuck Me stare. She bit her lower lip with pleasure while she imagined teasing him until he broke. Pushing her gum into his mouth while she tongue-kissed him, sucking on his finger while rubbing herself into his leg, feeling him up through his clothes while whispering that it was her first time. She suddenly shook her head. Boy, she'd been spending _way_ too much time at the House of Ill Repute. She was turning into a suped-up nympho.

She turned away from the mirror. Time for the dress rehearsal. She headed out for the practice hall to find Liev.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The girls met the team back at CBI at 9:00 on the dot. Both strolled in wearing full-length coats buttoned all the way up to the neck. Jane caught a glimpse of Cherry's shapely calves and stiletto heels and felt his heart trip in his chest. Rigsby saw Grace's white knee socks and Mary Janes and smothered a groan in his throat. He couldn't see, but he already knew. _A schoolgirl outfit._ Oh, dear God in Heaven, why did it have to be a schoolgirl outfit? How was he going to manage sitting in a truck for five hours watching Grace dance while looking like prep school jailbait? He scooted further behind his desk to hide his instant erection and gave her an encouraging smile. He glanced down at the surveillance rota to see who'd be in the truck with him tonight.

Scott from narcotics. _Sonofabitch._

He pulled a face and set the rota aside. Jesus. Why was God torturing him? Not only did he have to watch his woman strip for men other than him, but he had to watch it in a tiny van with the building's most notorious skirt chaser. _Fuck!_ Rigsby could only imagine what this ass was going to say about Grace. His jaw tensed at the very idea. So help him, if Scott said one thing even remotely out of line, he'd lay him out with one punch.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found Grace smiling nervously at him. "You got all of the cameras and mics for us?"

His anger melted. "Sure, sweethear—Van Pelt." He winced and gave her an apologetic look. He handed her a small bag filled with the electronic devices. "You got places to hide these things until you can find places to install them?" He eyed her coat suggestively.

Grace smiled sweetly. "Never you mind where I hide them. A lady never admits where she conceals her spy ware." She dipped a mini-curtsey at him and sauntered over to Cherry to hand her half of the cameras. Cherry slipped her share into her coat pocket. "A mic too, please, Gray. I'll set it up in Royko's office tonight."

The team looked up. "How do you plan to get in?" Lisbon asked.

Cherry shrugged. "I'll ask Eddie to take me to see the boss."

Jane bristled. "You're going to plant the mic with Royko in the office?"

Cherry cocked her head at him. "Of course."

There was a chorus of objections as Cherry calmly held up her hand, asking for silence. "Trust me. I'll draw far less suspicion on us if I do this my way. He won't have a clue, I promise." Lisbon and Rigsby muttered under their breath, but didn't challenge her. Cho, Jane and Grace kept their own council. She certainly seemed confident. They assumed she knew what she was doing.

Lisbon glanced at her watch. "It's 9:30, people. Ladies, you can go ahead and take off. Rigsby and Scott Dreyer from the narcotics team will be in the truck outside."

"And me," said Jane.

The rest of the team looked at him curiously. "Any reason why you need to be there?" asked Lisbon.

Jane smiled and recalled an answer he gave Cherry so many nights ago. "Idle curiosity."

Lisbon rolled her eyes and Cherry lowered her eyes to hide her smile. Grace jingled her keys at her sister. "Cher? Let's go."

She nodded and gave a small wave to the team. "See you on the other side." And with that, the sisters departed. Jane nudged Rigsby out of his seat.

"Unless you want to miss the floor show, I suggest we get Scott and get the hell out of here."

Rigsby huffed and stood up. Jane was right. Time to get this show on the road.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Jesus Harold Christ on rubber crutches, _how_ can you guys work next to _that _every day and not tap it on an hourly basis?"

Rigsby had prayed that Jane's presence would shame Scott into shutting the hell up, but instead he took the opportunity to lean into the tv monitor in the cramped quarters of the van and chastise them _both _for not fucking Grace every time she walked by their desks. Through the steely squint of his eyes, he saw Jane smile.

"You think so?" Amusement. Genuine curiosity.

Scott smacked the console with both hands. "Are you fuckin' kidding? Look at her! Nothing but sweet strawberry tart, that chick. And you know she's a genius in bed. Look how she's bending into that pole. Oh, she wants it bad. She might play all frosty and bitchy at work, but there's a hellcat in there just begging to be let out."

Rigsby fought his own fists as they rose up slowly from his sides and crunched up tightly, ready to punch through bone and screw it if he broke his hands. Scott's words enraged him so much that he actually feared for the man. He wasn't sure, once the blows started raining, if he'd be able to stop. Jane certainly wasn't strong enough to stop him. No one knew they were there. Scott could very well end up dead and Rigsby felt powerless to stop himself. Suddenly he felt Jane's hand on his back. _Wait_, it told him. He bit his lip and held on.

Jane continued to smile at Scott. "You know, Grace isn't really seeing anyone. You should ask her out."

Rigsby's entire body rippled in fury. Jane's hand pressed harder against his back. _Wait._

Scott raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Reeeaaally? Huh. Sure is a shame. A fine piece of ass like that should never be alone."

_Oh please, Jane_, Rigsby begged inwardly. _Let me kill him._

Jane nodded vigorously. "Damn right." A pause. "Maybe you should ask her out, Scott. She likes that aggressive stance in a man. You want something, you take it. She respects that kind of directness."

Scott turned back to the screen and watched as Grace pouted and pranced across the stage, pitting the clients against each other as they held out singles and begged for her attention. She was having a hard time deciding. Her finger pushed delectably against her candy lips as she regarded the throng of men over her glasses. Who to choose? Who to choose? She leaned down and pulled a man to his feet by his tie, running her outer leg against his cheek and wordlessly instructing him to put his money in her skirt. The man, transfixed, stared wide-eyed and did exactly as he was told. Good boy. She toed him back into his chair.

"Thanks, Jane. I'll definitely throw a net in her direction. See what I catch."

Jane slapped his back affectionately. "You won't be sorry."

Rigsby now worried for Jane's safety as well as Scott's.

Suddenly their attention was pulled by Cherry on the main floor. She was making her way through crowd of gaping men towards Eddie. When the evening had first started and the girls appeared on the screens, both Rigsby and Jane had purred mentally. Rigsby was already thinking of getting Grace home and playing teacher. But Jane? Jane wasn't sure _what_ he'd do if left alone with this version of Cherry. She was wearing a green corset and panties. Nothing else except heels. And yet it shoved her breasts to such a height and accentuated her already curvy hips to the point of cartoonish hotness. She was the guest of honor at the Playboy Mansion. She was every 1950s pinup. She was classic. She was stunning. She was too good for the Pink Pussycat. That much was clear. And the clients sitting at the tables and lining up along the stage watched both she and Grace and grinned like they'd won the lottery. None of the other girls working there that night came close.

But she only gave them her plastic smile as she shimmied her way through the faceless hoard of testosterone and gave her mega-watt grin to Eddie. She leaned into his arm and whispered something. When she pulled back, she stuck her lower lip out and batted her eyelashes at him in a Pretty Please pout.

Eddie smiled.

Jane smiled.

Eddie turned and led Cherry down the hallway towards Royko's office. "Here we go," Rigsby muttered. He still thought this was a hideous idea. But Jane was curious. What did she have up her non-existent sleeve? How could she smuggle in and hide a mic when the man was sitting two feet away from her?

She and Eddie had now left the range of the cameras. They'd just have to wait.

"Thanks, Eddie. I really appreciate you helping me." Well, that was quick. Cherry's mic piped into van and surprisingly, so did another camera monitor. The footage was dark and looked like it was aimed at the ceiling. It was moving. They were moving. The three men listened intently.

"No problem, Janie."

"Do you think he's busy right now? I don't want to bother him." Cherry was nothing but sweet concern.

There was a knock on a door. The camera went from a dark ceiling to a light one. Eddie's voice went from flirty to reverent. "Mr. Royko? Jane'd like to see you."

Another voice. Calm. Smooth. "Of course. Good evening, Jane. You look lovely tonight. No doubt all of my clients have fallen madly in love with you."

A giggle. Sweet. Bashful. "Thank you, sir. You're awfully kind."

"What can I do for you?"

"Actually, sir," The camera angle shifted down. Cherry was sitting. "I wanted to give you something."

"Give me something? Jane, that's very sweet, but I assure there's no need-,"

"No, please. It's nothing, really. But Marie and I wanted you to know how much we appreciate your generosity. It's been hard for us, and you gave us a chance. We just want to let you know that we're grateful. Please?"

The camera angle shifted again. The three men were greeted with Royko's face staring right at them. They inhaled stiffly, as if the man could see them through the lens. But he only stared at them gently, turning the camera upside-down in his hands as he watched it. Grayish interference fell across the screen, then disappeared.

_What the hell?_

Royko chuckled. "Does it get much snow in the Hawkeye State, Miss Davis?"

Cherry laughed warmly. "Yes, but usually not when the corn is that green."

They laughed together.

"Thank you, Jane. This is very thoughtful." The camera was suddenly placed off to one side. They could clearly see both he and Cherry on either side of the desk. Cherry smiled brightly. "Thank you again, sir. I'll let you get back to work now."

She rose from her seat and left the camera's view. They heard the door close and watched as Royko stared in its direction with amusement before going back to his paperwork.

Jane chuckled deep in his throat as the other two men looked at him questioningly.

God bless Cherry and her little plastic snow globe, brought all the way from the grand state of Iowa.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28- Out of Costume**

At 2am the girls waved goodbye to Eddie as he locked up behind them and headed for their car. They passed the van, throwing short glances through the tinted windows. Scott wolf whistled at them, knowing they couldn't hear him. Rigsby either needed to have a debilitating stroke, or kill Scott. He wasn't sure which he'd prefer. Once again, Jane intervened.

"Well, that was certainly an interesting first night. Scott? You mind dropping us off at the House of Ill Repute? We need to powwow with the girls about tomorrow."

Scott shrugged. "Whatever, man. That's cool with me."

Rigsby shot Jane a death glare as Scott started up the van and drove off after the girls. They were definitely going to have words later. Seriously, what the hell was Jane thinking? Telling Scott that Grace liked aggressive men? Was he trying to traumatize her? Make her shrink further into her shyness and fear by encouraging some asshole to practically dry hump her leg? Rigsby felt his heart swell up with protective anger. Grace was _his_. She needed hugs and kisses and gentleness and warmth and boatloads of love. This jagoff would approach her with a sleazy offer of dinner and sticky, fumbling car sex and completely freak her out. He shook his head in disgust. He certainly wasn't jealous of Scott, but he definitely felt his territoriality surging forward. His sweet baby didn't need to be objectified any more than she already was for this case. Jane was making trouble for her. If Scott laid one finger on Grace, Rigsby would make it his business to make trouble for Jane. After he killed Scott, that is.

Scott pulled up to the House and Jane and Rigsby got out, slamming the door behind them. "You gents have a good evening. Have a good…_powwow_…with the ladies."

Rigsby swiveled ducked his head through the window, his face not six inches from Scott's.

"_Watch it_." Hissed low. Angry. Blue eyes looking positively murderous.

Scott had never heard a rattlesnake's telltale shake just before a strike, but his body reacted like it just had, instantly freezing and adrenaline squeezing his heart with fear. His eyes went round and his hands went up like Rigsby had threatened to shoot him.

"Hey, man. It's cool. I'm just messin' around here."

"You're a tool, Dreyer. You say one more word about these women and I'll punch your teeth into your brain. Got it?"

Scott nodded jerkily. "Okay, okay. Jesus, Rigsby. Calm down. We're all good, all right? I'm sorry."

"Like fuck, you are." Rigsby snorted in repulsion and turned back to the house, shooting Jane a warning look before the older man decided to make a poorly-timed quip.

"Shut up, Jane."

The van pulled away as Jane held out his hands just like Scott had. He couldn't hide his smile, but at least he held his tongue. He was pretty sure he heard Rigsby mutter 'asshole' as he walked passed him and entered the House. His smile broadened. He really could be such a mean tease. As such, he followed at a safe distance.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Grace?" Rigsby opened the door to her room and found it dimly lit and very warm. Perfect. All he wanted to do right now was take Grace in his arms, wrap her in blankets and cuddle her to death. He was dying to see her, gauge her emotional state, make sure that she wasn't feeling sad or scared about what she'd had to do all night. He was in super-charged defender mode after experiencing the Pink Pussycat and fuckin' Scott Dreyer all night. Now, he needed to tuck her head under his chin, pull her into his lap and stroke her skin until she fell asleep in his arms.

So naturally, when Grace stepped out of the bathroom still wearing her schoolgirl uniform and batting her eyes at him like a teenage tease, he froze.

"Hi, Mr. Rigsby."

_What the hell? Mr. Rigsby? _

Grace twisted her toe into the floor, her Mary Janes flitting this way and that. She dipped her chin and looked at him over her glasses while twisting one of her ponytails. She bit her lips and lowered her eyes.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you after class, but I have a question about our test on Friday." She started walking towards him slowly, uncertainly. She peeked at him through her thick frames, her copper eyes looking hopeful.

Rigsby's brain broke.

She wasn't frightened. She wasn't remotely upset. She wasn't even tired. She. Was. Horny.

And she wasn't Grace. She was Marie.

And he wasn't Wayne, her boyfriend. He was Mr. Rigsby, her teacher.

Oh, dear God.

Yeah okay, sure, he'd imagined. The idea had fluttered around in the old noodle. But now? Right now? And with her looking so…dangerous? Young and dangerous?

He cleared his throat. He could do this. He _wanted_ to do this. Oh yes, yes, yes. He certainly did. He relaxed his shoulders and stood more sedately. "Hi there, Marie. What was your question?"

"Well," Marie crept a bit closer. "It's kinda embarrassing."

Rigsby smiled kindly. "There's no need to be embarrassed. Which part of the test has you worried?"

She bit her lip again and Rigsby fought the urge pull it out of her bite and suck it into his mouth. "The human biology part."

His blood flow immediately changed direction, zeroing in on his groin. "Human biology," he repeated. God, did he sound as dumbstruck as he felt?

She nodded shyly. Her hands played nervously with her rosary on her wrist and Rigsby had never been happier to not be Catholic. He couldn't imagine their god would be too happy with him ogling a pretend-teenager in a Catholic uniform toying with a rosary and with whom he was fucking out of wedlock. No, siree. But since he wasn't a Catholic, could freely imagine running his teeth over those beads as he licked and nipped at her arm.

"Uh-huh," she said coyly. "I don't get the part about… procreation."

_Thump!_ His jaw hit the floor.

"I see," he said. "What don't you get about procreation, Marie?"

"Well," she glanced up at him. She had closed the distance between them and was standing about a foot in front of him. He could feel the door close to his back. "It's hard to imagine since I've never done it before. I was hoping you could explain it to me."

From his height, he had a clear view of her cleavage straining against her bra while her little striped tie slid smoothly against her skin. Her high heels made her taller than usual, their legs almost equal in height. She reached out with a single finger and drew it lightly along his tie. Gentle, hesitant curiosity. He nearly exploded right there.

"Like, how do you know when the man is excited?"

He chuckled hoarsely. "An erection is a very obvious sign, Marie."

She looked up at him with guileless innocence and Rigsby was knocked flat by how convincing she looked. He actually felt a little guilty about wanting her, deflowing her, taking that innocence away and replacing it with carnal knowledge. He had to remind himself that he hadn't had the pleasure or the terrifying responsibility of being her first. But he did have the pleasure of being her last. He took her gently by the hand.

"Do you trust me, Marie?"

"Yessir. Of course."

He brought her hand to his groin and pressed it gently against his straining length. "This is how you know a man is excited."

She gasped and dropped her eyes in embarrassment, but her fingers splayed wide across his bulge, cupping him. He stifled a groan.

"Wow," she whispered. "Can I see?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. I'm your teacher."

She looked shyly at him again. "Please, Mr. Rigsby? It's for educational purposes."

He sighed and nodded. "All right. Just a peek."

He slowly unbuckled his belt and lowered his fly. He pushed his pants and boxers beneath his hips, his erection springing free. Marie gasped again. She looked up at him with awe and just a little fear. "Are they always that big?"

"I wouldn't know, Miss Van Pelt."

She giggled at her last name, her eyes never leaving his shaft. "But…what if the man needs help? Can the girl do something to help him get ready?"

His cock pulsed at her question and she saw it. Grace flickered into Marie's eyes for a moment. He saw longing before it was replaced again with purity. He smiled.

"Yes, there are ways. The girl can touch him, stroke him. Some girls even…" he let the sentence linger.

She looked up expectantly. "Some girls even what?"

He hesitated. "Some girls even use their mouths."

"Really?" She looked stunned. "Boys like that?"

"Oh, Marie. Boys like that a lot."

She stepped just two inches closer to him. Another inch and her exposed tummy would brush his shaft. She whispered softly. "Will you teach me?"

"Baby, baby, baby." Rigsby wasn't sure if that counted as breaking character, but Marie was definitely breaking _him_. He was a wreck. A gorgeous virgin was asking for blowjob lessons. He was so turned on he could barely stand up. Just as he was looking for a proper non-filthy response, he felt her fingers--feather-light--trace his cock. He jerked and his back hit the door.

She didn't seem to notice as she continued to touch him with her unsullied, virtuous hands. Her eyes looked wondrous. "It's so pretty," she murmured. Her thumb flicked just under the slit and he hissed loudly.

"On your knees." The command was low, needy, completely unbidden.

She obeyed instantly, looking up through her glasses, waiting for her lesson.

"Men become incredibly excited when women perform fallatio, Marie. I know it sounds weird, but it's actually a very generous act. Men should always treat women respectfully during sex, especially when she stimulates him."

She looked at the evidence of his arousal in front of her mouth. "Can I taste first? Before I suck it?"

"Miss Van Pelt, you can do anything you want."

She nodded seriously. She brought her lips to his tip and, to his delight, kissed it lightly. Through the kiss, her tongue swooped out and struck across the slit again. His hips bucked hard at the swipe. "_Fuck!_"

She backed off instantly, frightened. "I hurt you?"

She was playing so well that, in his delirium, he answered her seriously. "No, baby. You didn't hurt me. You feel amazing. I'm sorry, I'll be more careful with my language."

Her eyes stayed wide, but she nodded and brought her mouth back to him. Her lips fastened to him again and her tongue slid out softly. She rolled and flicked along the head, tasting him. He watched with wonder, pulling his shirt away from his stomach to get a better view. She looked magnificent, her ponytails bouncing on her shoulders, her glasses making her look like a sexy band geek, which struck a disparity as she sucked his cock instead of playing the clarinet. Then she grew bolder, taking more of him, swirling her tongue on every side of him as she pulled him deeper and deeper.

He moaned loudly, remember not to swear. "Marie, sweetheart. That's perfect, just like that. Oh, good girl. Brilliant girl. More. Please. Oh, Christ."

She pulled away from him with a pop and he groaned with disappointment. "You shouldn't take the Lord's name in vain, Mr. Rigsby."

He nodded frantically. "You're right. I shouldn't and I'm sorry. You're just so good at this that I'm losing my head. It won't happen again."

She smiled at him. "Mr. Rigsby? Is that all I'm supposed to do? Just hold you in my mouth?"

_Oh, God._ What he needed was to push her back on the floor, rip her skimpy little outfit off and bury himself inside of her. But he made himself hold still. She was placing her character completely within his power. He needed to be gentle. Gentle.

"You can do anything you like, Marie. Sometimes women move their mouths up and down to create friction. This is also very pleasurable."

"Do you like it, Mr. Rigsby?"

"Yes, sweetie. I enjoy it very much."

"Then I want it too." She pulled him into her mouth again and took him deep, bobbing her head up and down, alternating her suction. His head fell back against the door and his eyes squeezed shut. His inner monologue poured out again. This time, Marie didn't stop to rebuke him.

"Baby…sweet, sweet baby…oh, Jesus…I want you so much…sexy little thing…so hot…yeah, like that…suck me…harder…yeah!...beautiful…perfect…love you…ah!

Grace meant to stop him from cursing in front of his pupil, but she couldn't bring herself to do it as she pulled him all the way into her mouth and reveled at the words that came spilling out of him. She could do this all night, blowing his mind and his body and let herself get drunk off the words she received in return. Maybe another night. Right now, she had a fantasy to fulfill.

She pulled away from him again. "Mr. Rigsby?"

He pulled his head back up and shook it hard. "Yes, Marie?"

"I feel…funny."

He made his eyes refocus and looked down at her, still kneeling at his feet. "How do you feel funny?"

"I feel," she looked confused. "I feel hot…and throbbing. Like I need something, but I don't know what. And…and my underwear is wet. Is that stuff normal?" She looked up at him with a worried pout. "Or is that wrong?"

She was destroying him with the sweet little girl act. He felt the need to protectively reassure and the need to fuck all at the same time. He ran his fingers through her hair. "None of that is wrong, baby. In fact, all of that is very, very good."

She smiled hopefully. "Why is it good? What happens now?"

He moaned softly. "Usually, the man would return the favor."

Marie's eyes went huge and frightened. "You mean he'd…he'd use his mouth…like I just did? On the girl?"

Rigsby nodded. "Yes, sweetie."

She shook her head. Hard. "No, I don't want to learn about that."

He cupped her jaw gently. "Why not, Marie?"

"Because," she tried to lower her head, but he held it up. "Because it's private. Boys aren't supposed to look there. It's…it's dirty."

"Oh, sweetheart." Rigsby gently pulled her to her feet and hugged her to him. "Girls should feel just as much pleasure as boys do. It's not wrong or dirty. It's fair. It's more than that, it's wonderful. Remember what I said? Men must respect women during sex. And Marie?" He pulled back and lifted her chin to him. "A good man would _want_ to do it."

She looked so small and fragile in his arms. Her lower lip trembled and she bit it again to keep it still. "Do you like doing it?"

He traced her cheek. "Yes, I love doing it. I love knowing that a woman desires me so much that she lets me touch her that way. I love hearing the sounds that she makes when I pleasure her. It makes me very, very happy."

She chewed that pouty lip nervously. "Is that why I'm wet? Because I want to be touched?"

He tightened his grip instinctively at her words. "Yes. You're wet because you want to be touched. By me."

She looked at his chest. "Will you touch me?"

"Yes," Rigsby breathed, taking her hand and walking her over to the bed. He pushed her gently into a sitting position on the side. He growled softly as her pathetic excuse for a skirt showed her panties underneath and at the side. He tried not to think of how many men saw her like this tonight. Instead, he focused on her and their game. He kneeled slowly in front of her, smiling softly, his eyes full of warmth and love.

"A man should always want to do this for you, Marie. Always. Understand?"

She nodded, staring at him with owlish seriousness. "Yessir."

"Lean back. Try to relax. If you don't like any of this, just tell me. Okay?"

She nodded again. He slowly slid his hands over her thighs and up her skirt. She stiffened, but said nothing. "Trust me," he murmured. His thumbs hooked into those teasing blue underwear and pulled down gently. Rigsby gasped at the sight behind them. Marie wasn't just wet, she was dripping. Her waxed folds were positively glistening. Without thinking, Rigsby stripped out of his clothes. They suddenly felt suffocating. He hoped it was in keeping with their game, as he just couldn't wait for her permission. Once naked, he gently knelt and nudged her legs apart. She didn't lift up to look at him, she just lay quietly, awaiting his lesson.

"Are you ready, Marie?"

"Yessir. Should…should I be watching? Or should I close my eyes?"

He couldn't help it as his fingers slid out and gently pushed her tiny skirt up over her stomach before tracing them gently down her folds. She gasped at his touch. "Baby, you can do anything you want. Anything."

And with that, Rigsby's instincts took over. He pulled her legs over his shoulders and dipped his head between her thighs, running his tongue over the length of her slit. She gasped again and arched her back. She raised herself onto her elbows, looking down at him as he fastened his mouth to her folds. She legs instinctively pulled him against her as he teased and licked and sucked her. She forgot Marie. She forgot their little game. All she knew was the earth-shattering pleasure that Wayne was giving her. She moaned his name, bucking against his mouth. Suddenly her own litany of desire came pouring out.

"Pleasepleasepleaseplease…oh, God…yes…"

"You like this, baby?" Rigsby asked between licks.

"Yes!...soooo good, you're so so good….don't stop… _please_…_Rigsby_!"

He chuckled as he continued his onslaught. Grace was the first woman to ever shout his _last_ name in bed. He adored it. He tongued her with no mercy until she screamed it louder, coming apart in his mouth and gasping for air. She writhed and sobbed as her climax rocked her body, reaching for him and grasping hold of his arms.

"Show me," she moaned. "What happens next?"

He smiled wickedly. "Next? Oh, sweetie. Next is the best part."

He pulled her up by her hands and up into a standing position next to the bed. He turned her roughly, facing away from him. He slid his hands up her thighs, pushing her little skirt up once again. "This part, little girl, is called penetration."

For the first time in Rigsby's life, he took a woman from behind, standing up. Grace was 5'9", taller than any other woman in his past. In heels, she aligned perfectly against his hips. So when he nudged her legs apart and nestled his erection between her thighs, he nearly fainted at the new experience.

He rocked back and forth slowly, not yet entering her. Instead he let her juices drip down onto him and he gently pushed and pulled her against him. She reached back and grabbed his ass, pulling him tighter against her.

He hooked his chin over her shoulder. "Jesus, you're soaking me."

"Oh, please," she murmured, her hands sliding restlessly down his thighs. "Show me."

He pulled back, positioned himself, and slid home. Their moans were indiscernible from each other. He withdrew and thrust again, groaning with ecstasy as her snug channel stretched tightly around him. "Oh God, you feel so good," he growled into her ear. Her heat engulfed him. She was so damn hot that he was sure she was burning him alive. She moaned loudly as he pushed deeper. He felt it vibrate in her back and against his chest. Suddenly she was wearing too much for his liking.

"You, little Marie," He grabbed her shirt in the front and ripped it open. "…are wearing far too many clothes." He pulled it off her arms without breaking tempo. His hands went to her hips where his thick fingers pulled impatiently at the strings holding her skirt in place. It fell away with little resistance. "This," he cupped her breasts through her bra. "…is in the way of one of men's favorite parts." He undid the clasp and slipped it down her arms. She pushed it away impatiently before bringing her arms back around his neck while his hands slid over her breasts. Her nipples were drawn in tight, aching points and she sobbed with relief as he massaged them roughly. His hands slipped down, clenching her hips as he drove harder, losing himself to the excitement.

"You feel this?" He hissed in her ear.

"Yessssss!" She hissed back.

"This is procreation, little girl. _This_…is fucking." He pumped harder, rocking his whole body forward.

"This is how babies are made, Marie." He felt her muscle groups start to shudder and squeeze around him. She was moaning nonstop. She was so close. His possessive pride boiled over. He slipped one hand around and spread it firmly across her lower belly.

"This is how we're going to make one. _Right. Here_."

Grace threw herself backwards and screamed. Her inner walls clenched hard and milked Rigsby for all he was worth. He roared with victory, ramming home again and again before he exploded inside of her and nearly blew his own head off with excruciating ecstasy. He held on until every last ripple of pleasure had coursed through them.

He pulled her back tight against him, pitching them sideways onto the bed. He half-crawled, half-dragged her into the center of it, curling around her and propping himself on his elbow to look down admiringly at his sated little sex kitten. She had nothing on but her thick glasses, striped tie, knee socks and high heels. Even exhausted, he found himself thinking about ravishing her again. She looked up at him through hooded eyes.

"That was quite a lesson," she murmured softly.

He chuckled and looped his arm around her. "You asked for it."

She giggled and snuggled closer to him. "I had to. I spent all night looking right at our cameras and knowing you were watching me. I didn't see anyone else, I only saw you, in the truck, looking back at me. By the end of the night, it was driving me crazy."

"And here I was thinking my poor girlfriend was going to be all upset and vulnerable from her first night on the job." He was tracing her bellybutton again. She watched his eyes as they followed his fingers.

"Meet the new me. Brave and cocky and too cool for school."

"I can't believe you just said too cool for school. Lame, Van Pelt."

She laughed and punched him lightly. "Break up with me then, if I'm so lame."

Rough shake of his head. "Sorry. You'll have to try harder."

She sat up and pulled off the remaining pieces of costume, then pulled the covers down off the bed and beckoned him to join her in their warm, cozy depths. He did so and automatically pulled her into his arms. After spending every night together since Halloween, she'd been delighted to discover that he couldn't seem to sleep unless he was holding her. She'd tried to sleep alongside him at first, thinking he'd want his space as so many men did, but invariably she'd feel him toss and turn until she settled in his arms, then he fell instantly asleep. It thrilled her that her presence soothed him so completely. Now, as he cuddled her close, his hand drifted to her lower belly again, his palm resting gently against her navel.

As she slowly drifted off to sleep, two words kept swimming in and out of the dark abyss of her dreams.

_Right. Here. Right Here. Right here. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hello, stranger." Cherry heard Jane walk into her bedroom before she saw him. She came out of her adjoining bathroom, wiping the makeup off her face with a wet cloth. He was standing in the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

"Hi Jane," he smiled playfully at her.

She chuckled. "Don't you start. It's too late for your smug assertions as to why I chose that name. Ambush me tomorrow, you have my permission. Right now, just play nice."

Jane raised his eyebrows rakishly as he took in her corset and panty set. "I can certainly play nice."

Cherry smiled tiredly. "Glad to hear it." She tossed the cloth aside and kicked off her stilettos, then stretched her arms up and arched her back, loosening her tight muscles.

Jane's smile softened and he crooked his index finger at her. "C'mere."

Cherry walked over obediently. She went to put her arms around him, but he stopped her. "Turn around," he whispered. She gave him a good-natured pout, but did as he asked. Her back was tantalizingly close to his chest. Once again, his heart thumped hard at how beautiful he found it. His fingers grazed down her shoulders. She hummed softly at his touch. Slowly, he undid the knot of her corset laces and began to loosen their alluring criss-crossing pattern. Cherry sighed with relief as the fabric went slack against her ribs.

Under the lacing, Jane found a series of buttons that held the garment in place. With deliberate slowness, he undid each one, gently sliding his finger under the fabric as each one undone exposed her skin. At the last button, the corset fell open at the sides, but still clung to her curvy breasts and didn't fall away as he'd expected. He pushed his hands into each side and flicked the sexy scrap of material to the floor. The sight that greeted his eyes aroused and concerned him.

Once again, she was naked for him, save a pair of green panties that could easily be dispensed with. What gave him paused was the map of angry red marks pressed deep into her flesh from the tightness of the corset. Instinctively, his hands began stroking the marks, seeking to erase them with softer, more gentle caresses.

"Poor baby," he murmured as he bent to press light kisses into the angry welts on her back. He felt her head tip back and she moaned softly, rocking back into his touch. He turned her around to face him and ran his finger under her chin.

"Stay here," he whispered. He walked over to her dresser and pulled open the drawers he knew held her comfort clothes. He came up with an old t-shirt and pair of flannel boxers. Perfect. He came back to wear she was standing and handed her the clothes. "Hold these." She nodded and took them.

He knelt before her and—after glancing quickly at her naked loveliness—slid her panties off her legs. He tossed them aside and took the boxer shorts from her. He lifted one leg and had her step into them, then the other. He rose, sliding the boxers up with him. When he settled them over her hips, he took the t-shirt from her and pulled it gently over her head. She closed her eyes and let him fuss, letting him raise and lower her arms and legs like a marionette. When he was finished, he pulled her gently into his arms.

"How dare you be so brave tonight," he whispered against her hair. She smiled against his chest and hugged him close. "I'll do worse if you keep punishing me with kisses and baggy clothes."

"Hmmmmm," he purred against her. He leaned down and picked her up, walking over to her bed and laying her against her pillows. She tugged at his jacket lapels to join her, but he resisted. Instead, he stood up and divested himself of the jacket and vest. He kicked off his shoes, then crawled onto the bed next to her legs. He said nothing, merely gave her a knowing look before pulling her feet into his lap. He chose the right foot, gripped it with skilled fingers and pushed his thumbs deep into the muscle pad just beneath her toes. Cherry hissed with pleasure and agony.

"Aaaaaah! Yeah, right there." Her voice was choked and raspy as the terrible ache in her foot was painfully dispelled by someone who clearly understood where high heels hurt a woman the most.

"Do you want me to draw you a bath, babe? I can make it so it's just this side of boiling." Jane continued his massage as he spoke softly.

Cherry smiled through her grimace. "No, no. I'll do that tomorrow. Just stay with me. And I'll pay you a million dollars if you keep doing that."

Jane chuckled. "No bribes needed. You did good today. You deserve this."

She giggled lightly. "Is this part of the CBI perk package? I take a gig, and as payment I get a hot guy and a foot rub?"

"We aim to please, ma'am."

Her giggle turned into a laugh. "Excellent. Sign me up for the next mission impossible."

"Mommy?"

Cherry and Jane turned and found two little, sleepy faces looking at them from the door.

Cherry gave another brilliant, tired smile. "Baby, baby. Come on in." Lila and SoSo, dressed in their pajamas wandered into the bedroom and crawled up on the bed. Without a word, SoSo burrowed into Cherry's side and Lila, to Jane's astonishment, pushed under Cherry's feet and curled into his lap. He looked up at Cherry with wide, surprised eyes.

She chuckled softly. "Hey, missy. You stole my masseuse."

Lila looked up from her nest in Jane's lap and huffed at her mom. "He was my magician first."

Jane sat transfixed as the little girl snuggled deeper between his crossed legs and burrowed her face into his shirt. One of the many things he'd forgotten over time; kids can sleep anywhere and in the most bizarre positions imaginable. She was out like a light in seconds. His hands left Cherry's foot and softly cupped Lila's head and shoulder. _So warm_. He'd forgotten that too. Children gave off a ridiculous amount of body heat. He ran his fingers through her fiery red hair and exhaled shakily.

"Looks like I've lost you to a younger woman," Cherry teased him lightly.

"I'd forgotten this," he whispered, never taking his eyes off Lila.

Cherry silently ached for him and said nothing. SoSo was also down for the count, her little fists gripping handfuls of Cherry's t-shirt and her breath coming out in soft, even puffs of air. She watched her younger daughter for a moment before looking up a Jane.

"What should we do?"

He looked up at her. His expression said it all. For all of his walls and anger and fear, children wiped his face of everything but wonder. "Can they sleep with us?"

She held out her hand over the heads of her children. He reached out and took it in his own. "Of course they can."

They worked all four of them under the covers, the girls sandwiched between the adults. Jane grabbed a t-shirt for himself before easing into bed next to Lila. He looked over her head and found Cherry's eyes watching him thoughtfully.

"Will you be able to sleep?" she whispered.

Jane considered seriously. "For the first time in a while, I actually think I will."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29- Anchors and Kites**

This time, Grace barely made it to the bathroom. Her eyes shot open as she lay in Rigsby's arms and felt her gorge rise with alarming speed. She managed to untangle herself from him and tiptoe across the sunlit room, shut the door, and race to the toilet. Praying she didn't wake him, she retched as quietly as she could, barely bringing up anything that warranted throwing up in the first place. When the nausea subsided, she sat back on the cool marble tiles, gasping quietly. _What the hell was happening to her?_ She grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped her mouth. As she rose slowly, she saw her purse sitting next to the door from where she'd dropped in last night waiting for Rigsby to walk in.

_Right here._

The phrase snagged in her brain. He had said it last night during their role playing. It had followed her into her dreams and whispered cryptically to her now. Why was it bothering her so much?

The purse didn't seem to have an answer for her. Instead, it seemed to echo her mind.

_Right here._

Annoyed, Grace walked over and picked up her bag. She looked inside and tried to figure out what her brain was obviously trying to tell her. She snorted to herself. Like the answers to her psyche were squirreled away between her wallet and lipstick.

…And then she saw it.

…And then she knew.

Her birth control pills.

_Oh, dear God. No. _

They were nestled in the side pocket, just like they always were. She was a cautious woman, and took her pill with dauntless regularity. But she knew. She knew before she even reached in and, with trembling fingers, opened the lid and checked the rows.

There.

_Right there._

Almost three weeks ago, in between the empty, punched-out foil pockets, was a single, solitary pill. Grace quickly did the math. October 31st.

Halloween.

She'd forgotten to take her pill that morning. She remembered now with almost brutal clarity. She'd been so excited about the party that night. She'd been distracted all day, including that morning as she got dressed. She kept glancing at her Carrie dress hanging on the door and the little tiara sitting on her dresser. She kept thinking that she couldn't wait for 5:00 to roll around so she could come home and get ready for the event of the season. She'd been _so _excited. So excited, that her birth control sat in her purse that morning, utterly forgotten.

Grace felt nauseous again.

That night. That perfect, unbelievable night. She'd kissed him. She'd told him that she loved him. And she'd brought him to this very room where they made love…how many times? She couldn't remember. But she did remember him whispering, asking—rather belatedly—if his lack of a condom was okay. He'd been a little embarrassed, his passion making him forget about contraception. She'd smiled and nodded, she was on the pill.

But not that night.

She knew only too well how thin the coverage of pills could be if taken irregularly. Being a cautious woman, she read up on these things. Her knowledge mocked her now, cruelly informing her that a missed pill upped her chance of conception by ten percent. She cursed herself for being so stupid. Ten percent might as well be a hundred percent considering how many times they'd been together. And she _should have_ suspected from the start about their combined fertility. Everything about Wayne screamed virility, and she was a healthy woman in her late twenties. Christ, they'd only have to breathe the same air to make a baby. And just to clinch it, she went and had unprotected sex with him. _Why hadn't she been more careful?_

"Stupid, stupid girl," she berated herself.

"Grace?" She jumped at his voice behind the door. "Baby, you okay?"

Grace whirled and quickly flushed the toilet, banishing the proof of her condition and giving her a convincing cover story. She'd had to pee.

"Yeah, sweetie. I'm fine." She came to the door and opened it. "Just had to use the ladies'."

He smiled sleepily at her and took her hand, pulling her back to bed. "It's still early," he mumbled as he pulled her to him. "No leaving the bed for more than 30 seconds."

She swallowed hard and forced out a small laugh. "Sorry, I didn't realize I had a time limit."

He chuckled and cuddled her closer, his arms around her waist and shoulders. His hand rested on her tummy again. _Did it rest above his child?_ Grace wondered. In seconds, he was asleep. She stroked his forearm as it pressed gently across her chest, her gaze far away. They'd have to get up soon. Duty called.

She'd buy a test at lunch.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jane woke up in ball of Delaney women curled and pressed against him. He lay on his side, little Lila using his arm as a pillow. Her face was burrowed into his t-shirt, her arm slung carelessly over his ribs. SoSo, during the course of the night, had migrated down to his legs where she'd curled in between them, her head resting against his lower thigh, her arms bunched up against her little chest. Cherry lay parallel to him, one hand under her head and the other tangled in Lila's hair. Jane gently raised his head to get a better view. His smile could have powered a locomotive. All of the girls had gravitated to him while they slept, even Cherry was much closer than when she'd fallen asleep.

And he hadn't noticed.

Jane almost shouted with joy when he realized that he'd slept. Like the dead. For hours and hours and hours, just like normal people. He'd slept so soundly that two children had wiggled all over him and he'd been oblivious. And no dreams either. He quickly checked his recent memory banks, searching for the residual sadness or fear that always came with wakefulness.

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He'd slept a dreamless sleep for the first time since…he couldn't even remember. Suddenly he wanted to leap up and smother these three girls with hugs and kisses. They'd cured him. They'd fixed him. He'd faced the heinous night with them and come out on the other side totally unscathed. An avalanche of relief poured out of his chest and he chuckled softly, snaking his fingers into Lila's hair and linking with Cherry's hand. Her eyes fluttered. When she opened them, she gave him his favorite present.

A smile.

"Morning, stranger," she whispered softly. She squinted at her one child. "Where's So?"

Still grinning, his eyes flicked up and down, indicating she look lower. She did so and saw her baby, nestled firmly between his legs. She pressed her fingers into her lips, chortling. "I swear these kids are half monkey." She raised her eyes to his again. "Did you sleep okay?"

He moved his hand from Lila's hair to Cherry's cheek. "You have no idea."

"Hmmmm. I'm so glad. Usually anyone brave enough to sleep with these kids gets a night full of wiggly, punchy craziness."

His grin pulled back a fraction. "Anyone?"

Cherry read his expression and melted. Jealousy. _Aw._ She reached out and ran her hand through his touchably soft curls. "Anyone, meaning the troupe. Dancers in the troupe often babysit for me." She smiled when he relaxed.

Lila murmured between them, her arm shooting from his ribs to his neck. She grazed his ear with her tiny little nails, scratching him as she unconsciously snuggled closer. Cherry, despite her best efforts, giggled loudly. "See? You're risking life and limb, here."

SoSo sat up from her nest and rubbed her eyes drowsily. "Mommy? I'm hungry." Lila made a high-pitched, squealing noise of irritation in her throat as everyone's talking slowly brought her out of sleep. Jane laughed at the sound.

"Wake up, lazy bones." He poked her in the ribs and got another squeal in response as Lila burrowed further into him, stubbornly refusing to open her eyes.

Jane sighed and looked at Cherry. "I'm afraid there's only one cure for sleepy girls who don't want to get up."

Cherry grinned and played along. "Reeeeeally? What's that?"

Jane put on his serious voice. "Sadly, if little girls don't open their eyes on the count of three, then they're raspberried within an inch of their life."

Cherry gasped. "Oh, no! Not raspberries! Patrick, you wouldn't! They're just kids!"

SoSo, still sitting up, giggled hysterically and fell like a stone onto the duvet, her eyes tightly shut. Apparently she didn't want to be left out of whatever was coming.

Jane sighed. "I'm sorry, babe. Rules are rules. By the time I count to three, there had better be two girls up and awake next to the bed, or they're in trouble. One…"

Lila and SoSo giggled loudly, pushing their faces into the blanket and huddling against him.

"….Twoooooooo…."

More giggles. Louder. More shrill.

"THREEEEEE!" Jane roared as he pushed Lila back against Cherry, lifted her pajama top away from her bellybutton, put his lips to her side and blew as hard as he could. The raspberry noise filled the room and Lila screamed with laughter as she tried to escape.

"Mommy save me!" She gasped between screams.

Cherry laughed as she held Lila's arms. "Sorry, you heard the man. Rules are rules."

Jane leapt from the bed and grabbed SoSo from the duvet, giving her a serious raspberry on her tummy that had her screeching and begging her mom for help, just like her sister. She met with the same answer.

"I don't know why you're asking me. Patrick's the one you need to ask."

"PATRICK!"

"WE'RE UP! WE'RE UP!"

"NO MORE RASPBERRIES! PLEEEAAASE!"

He jumped back to his feet. "Up and att'em! Let's see those feet on the floor, missies!"

The girls, laughing and shrieking, jumped off the bed and stood like soldiers in front of him.

"That's better!" He crowed like a drill sergeant. "Now march those feet into the kitchen quick sharp, or I know two kids who aren't getting pancakes for breakfast."

"PANCAKES!" The girls cheered as they tore down the hallway towards the kitchen, leaving the adults and a cloud of dust in their wake.

Jane turned back to the bed and grinned like a maniac before diving on top of Cherry. She shrieked and raised her hands to defend herself, but it was useless. He ripped the duvet from her, yanked up her t-shirt and blew a raspberry on her lower belly. Cherry screamed and bucked underneath him, trying desperately to escape the scraping tickles from his lips and stubble. She was gasping for air, tears streaming down her face.

"Uncle, UNCLE!" Her surrender had no effect on him, and in fact made him bolder. She felt him lick a circle around her navel before dipping his tongue into the well. She entire body rippled with laughter. "Stop, Patrick! I can't take anymore!"

He lifted his head and gave her a dastardly grin. "I'll finish with you later," he growled playfully at her. Her laughter turned into a moaning sigh. He jumped up and held his hand out.

"Please tell me you have pancake mix. I just promised two crazy monkeys I'd make them," he said as he helped her up.

Cherry stood next to him and nodded lightly. "I think so. We'll have a look."

Jane started to walk towards the door, only to get yanked back into Cherry's arms and kissed breathless. "You," she murmured against his lips. "Are such a sexy tease."

"Kettle," he murmured back. She grinned. He felt exactly the same about her.

Hand in hand, they wandered downstairs to the kitchen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I want a cactus!"

"I want Mickey Mouse!"

The girls called out their shape preferences as Jane stood barefoot at the griddle in his slacks and t-shirt. "My, such bossy women," he glanced at Cherry who smiled benignly. "I want the Mona Lisa," was her only response.

The House's kitchen was enormous, just like every other room. The griddle stood in the center as part of a massive island, complete with butcher blocks and an overhanging pot rack. The pots were solid copper and twinkled brightly next to his head. There was a wine rack, several dish washers, a long oak table that seated 16 people, two stoves, long rows of cabinets, and every appliance KitchenAid ever saw fit to invent. This was the first time he'd seen it, and Jane instantly liked this room best of all. It was built and arranged like the kitchens of Spain and Italy. Countries that treat food preparation and mealtimes like social events. You could cook _and_ entertain in this room. People could sit comfortably, drink wine, chop vegetables, keep the chef company, and feel useful while in someone else's home. Yes, he liked it very much indeed.

As he poured the batter onto the griddle, Rigsby and Grace appeared in the doorway, both dressed in t-shirts and boxers and rumpled from sleep. Jane was glad to see they felt comfortable enough to emerge in comfy clothes. It felt natural. He and Rigsby gave each other a brief nod of greeting. And understanding.

"My giant!" SoSo beamed as she jumped down from a chair and hugged Rigsby's leg. Rigsby nearly fell over as she caught him mid-step. He laughed heartily, bending down and scooping her up like she weighed nothing.

"My fairy!" He beamed right back. SoSo giggled and buried her face in his neck, suddenly shy at being so close to the big man. He patted her back reassuringly and soon she was talking nonstop to him about everything terribly important in the four-year-old's life. He sat down with her and settled her on his lap, letting her babble about crayons and giraffes and her favorite cartoons.

Grace sat down as well and Lila instantly crawled into her lap. "Morning, Gray," she yawned as she cuddled into her aunt.

Grace smiled and held her close. "Morning, baby. What's Jane making for us?"

Lila looked up at her. "Who's Jane?"

Cherry reached over from her chair and smoothed Grace's tussled hair. "Patrick, baby. Jane is Patrick's last name."

"Jane's a girl's name," SoSo chirped from Rigsby's lap. The adults chuckled.

"Pancakes," Jane answered from the griddle.

"Ah, perfect. Has anyone called Mickey Mouse yet?" Grace looked hopeful.

Cherry nodded. "Sorry, he's taken. You'll have to get here early if you want the Mouse."

Grace sighed dramatically and kissed Lila's forehead. "Oh, well. I'll take the Leaning Tower of Pisa." Jane snorted at the Van Pelts' ideas of what was possible in the pancake batter medium.

As Jane worked, a sleepy, comfortable silence fell over the group.

As Grace continued to hold and stroke Lila, she could feel Rigsby's gaze on her. She didn't look right away, preferring to let him stare, knowing why he did, but choosing to feign unawareness. She finally looked over to him and smiled. "What?"

He didn't smile back, but his expression was still warm and aching. "It's just amazing."

He continued to watch Grace and Lila, identical twins separated by twenty years, as they sat hugging each other. Their fiery hair fell over their shoulders, their copper eyes still slanted from sleep, their oval faces, their pouty lips, their long limbs, everything the same, save for their age. Rigsby was transfixed. His heart throbbed painfully at the image they made. Not niece and aunt, but mother and daughter. It could so easily be the case. And little SoSo too. As she sat in his lap, curled into his chest and drawing random patterns on his shirt with her finger, Rigsby had a realistic vision of how it could be for them. He and Grace married, daughters and sons of whatever combination, sitting in their kitchen making pancakes. The image was so palpable that he could almost reach out and touch it. Without thinking, he dropped his head and kissed SoSo's hair. She smelled like sugar and baby powder. She looked up from her pattern drawing.

"What's my kiss for?" she asked, her bright blue eyes making his heart squeeze again.

He smiled and gave her another one on her forehead. "For being my fairy. Can giants give fairies kisses?"

She gave this some serious thought. "Yes, good giants can. Not bad ones."

Rigsby chuckled and pointed to his cheek. "Then I want one too."

SoSo leaned up and planted a wet smack just above his jaw. He thanked her and pulled her higher up against his chest, cuddling her close.

Cherry smiled from her seat, taking in the scene before her and ruminating on its meanings. Gray and Wayne continued to gaze at each other over the heads of her children. She could see their thoughts as they did so. 

_Their future_. It was that obvious.

And Cherry was glad. From the moment she'd met Wayne, she'd known. This man was her sister's soul mate. Everything about their individual natures complemented the other's in a way she'd never seen before. Not even she and Tom had fit so well. And now that they were together? It was only a matter of time before Gray agreed to his proposal and they had their own Lilas and SoSos to gaze over the tops of. Cherry would bet the House on it.

Cherry's gaze wandered over to Jane, his back to her as he flipped a pancake in the air and caught it deftly. She considered her own nature. She, for example, was not the overly-romantic type. She was too pragmatic for that. It was what made her such a good dancer; she sensed what would seduce the men before her, and she did it. Mathematics, really. It gave her a sense of order. Of execution. It's why she never blushed, never hesitated. To blush or hesitate was to break the spell. She needed the spell to keep business repeating. And that's all her seduction was. Business.

But now?

This man who stood in her kitchen flipping pancakes. This psychic. Suddenly she had pulled a blank. She didn't want to seduce him. She almost didn't want to encourage him at all. He'd come into her life, poking around her painful past, disarming her with his own, bewitching her children, ensaring her heart. Her pragmatism was fading fast and her sadly undernourished romantic streak was growing in its place. She was out of her element. She sensed he was too. They loved each other. She knew it and feared it in equal measure.

She sighed and looked down at her fingers laced in her lap.

She and Jane couldn't be more different than Gray and Wayne. Nevertheless, she knew that she and Patrick complemented each other with the same serendipitous exactness. And she knew again—rather wistfully—that Patrick was a better match for her than Tom had been. She felt mutinous thinking it, but it was true. Tom had appreciated her wit and vivacity. Patrick shared it. Tom had enjoyed her dancing. Patrick understood it. Tom had been her anchor. Patrick was her kite.

She looked up again. He was serving the pancakes onto plates. She quickly got up and went to the far cabinets, rummaging for the syrup. When she found it, she turned again to the scene in her kitchen.

Two men. Two women. Two children.

It felt right to her. Mathematics. Symmetry. It appealed to her every level. She walked back to the table as her girls chattered away to the adults. As she sat next to Patrick, her pragmatic side took another hit from her fast-emerging romantic one.

_Let it stay this way. _


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30- Lines**

As soon as she finished her second pole dance of the night, she slipped into the backstage area and grabbed her purse before heading to the bathroom. She made sure that Cherry was busy. Once she saw her sister heading to the lap dancing area—the Rainbow Room, as they whimsically called it—with a guy in a suit, she knew she'd have a least 15 minutes. She felt guilty, but she was glad he'd chosen Cherry. It gave her a chance to do what needed to be done. Clutching her purse under her arm, Grace slipped into the ladies' room. It was empty. Perfect. She chose and side stall and locked herself in. Grace rummaged in her purse until she found her purchase from earlier that day. She tore open the box, opened all three wrapped sticks, and took a deep, shuddering breath. She pulled her black sequined panties down and sat on the toilet and held all three under her stream. Once covered, she set the sticks down carefully on a folded piece of toilet paper, cleaned herself off and flushed the toilet.

Six minutes, according to the box.

She pulled down the toilet lid and sat down impatiently. She tried to keep her eyes to the floor, but they kept pulling back to the innocuous, terrifying sticks sitting on the metal lid of the garbage tin. She took another uneven breath.

The sticks sat calmly. Thinking. Silently performing their little chemistry trick. She huffed at them. Biochemistry had never been Grace's forte, but then again, these sticks weren't first in their class either. Inaccuracy was rife with their kind. That's why she drafted all three at once. No point in getting a reading, only to freak out at a positive, and then discover is was a false alarm.

Four minutes.

Grace's high heel tapped erratically against the tiled floor. Four minutes. God, had four minutes ever taken an hour before? Had four minutes ever held an answer of this magnitude? The answer to whether she was just a vomiting bundle of nerves or the mother of Wayne Rigsby's child?

Her heel froze on the floor and her chest pulled tight. _Wayne's child._ Her hand instinctively slid across her bare belly. She felt a trembling smile skitter across her lips. If those sticks confirmed it, she would be giving him a baby. Her imagination roared to life and took off without her permission. Her mind showed her a boy. He was about four, like SoSo. He had dark hair and the most beautiful blue eyes she'd ever seen. He smiled at her. It was his daddy's smile. Sweet. Kind. Playful. Shy. Her breath caught in her throat. He dissolved and Grace was heartbroken to see him go. Almost immediately, a little girl took his place. Same age, same eyes, same hair color, except long and wavy down her little back. They were Wayne's colors again, but not his face. The girl's face was heart-shaped, a dark widow's peak crowned her forehead and her finely cut jaw was accented by her cupid's bow mouth. The little girl giggled and winked at her impishly. Grace smiled at the imaginary child and wondered if Cherry would laugh to see her own face in Grace's child, as Cherry so often saw Grace's face in Lila.

Thirty seconds.

She could feel her heartbeat in her throat. She didn't know what to pray for. Her job and better timing? Her future children? Wayne's insane happiness at the news? His ignorance of a close call?

She didn't know. She didn't even know if she could tell him if it turned out negative. Why worry him that it had been a possibility? Why stir up his protectiveness when her assignment bothered him enough already?

And if it was positive?

She closed her eyes. Six minutes had elapsed. One blue line for negative. Two blue lines for positive. _Now, just open your eyes and look. No big deal. _

She opened them and looked.

The shock of it made it hard for her to register.

One little, two little, three little sticks.

Two little, four little, six little blue lines.

Six blue lines.

Six.

Grace fell back against the seat. Her breathing instantly kicked into hyperventilation. She was too hot. She felt faint. She suddenly panicked. _Where was Cherry?_ She needed Cherry.

By providence, the door opened and a voice called out. "Marie? Girly, are you in here?" One of the other dancers. Kylie? Kaylie? She forced her voice out calmly.

"Yeah. I'm here. Listen, could you grab Jane for me? I've broken a seam. Can you ask her to bring her sewing kit?"

"Sure, babe. One sec."

The door closed and Grace's lungs exploded again. Her hands flew to either side of the stall to brace herself and she knocked the sticks to the floor. Her head fell back as she tried desperately not to pass out.

The door opened again.

"Marie?" Cherry's voice.

"Cherry," she whispered, not caring if she used the wrong name.

Cherry's tone changed instantly. "Open the door, babe. Right now." She didn't wait for answer. She gave it a solid kick and the flimsy lock buckled, the door swung open and hit Grace lightly against her knees. Cherry stood in front of her wearing a red teddy and panty set, looking fit to kill.

"Cherry, please."

"Don't talk," she knelt down in front of her and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her in tight. Her hands stroked her back, her hair. She murmured into her ear. "Tell me, Gray. What happened?"

Grace couldn't find the words. She felt so sick, but so glad to see her sister that she simply held on and shuddered against their hug. "I'm in trouble."

Cherry didn't speak. Still holding Grace, she looked around the stall searching for anything that might help her understand what had upset her baby sister so much. She didn't see anything out the ordinary. Grace's purse lay nearby, that was about it.

Then she looked down to her left.

A stick. No…three sticks…scattered on the floor just under the stall divide. She picked one up. Two blue lines.

She picked up the second. Two blue lines.

The third stick. Surprise, surprise.

Cherry quickly took the sticks and box and threw them into the trash. She cradled Grace's head, careful to whisper only loud enough for her to hear. "How far along?"

Grace turned her head to Cherry's ear. "Only three weeks. Halloween night, I think."

Another soft whisper. "Congratulations."

Grace gave a gasping chuckle, tears finally trickling down her cheeks. She pulled back and wiped them quickly. "Thanks."

Cherry tipped her chin up and blotted her tears with a square of toilet paper. "No crying right now, Marie. They're looking for you. You need to get out there and work the floor. Two lap dances at least in the next hour. Boss's orders." She smoothed Grace's hair. "Are you up to it?"

Grace took a steadying breath and exhaled slowly. Nodding, she stood up. "Yes. I'm okay."

Cherry stood up with her and hugged her again. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Jane. Please…?" She paused and looked her in the eye. "Don't tell him. Don't tell yours either."

Cherry nodded and rubbed her arms reassuringly. "Tell them what?"

Grace gave her a wan smile as they walked out, their heel clicks echoing across the tiles and mirrors.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Your first client is in the Rainbow Room waiting for you," Cherry gestured to the back room, closed off with a gauzy curtain. She pulled Grace close again. "I'm going hunting. Wish me luck."

"Be careful," Grace whispered back. She silently asked God to watch her sister. Protect her as she searched this god-awful place and let her find what they needed to bring these people down.

She drew her shoulders back and walked towards the curtain. Cherry had planted a camera in there the night before, so she knew Rigsby could see her in the van. Remembering that made her feel slightly better. Her guardian angel was watching over her. It made the rather nauseating task ahead a little easier to bear. Last night, she'd had to give two lap dances during her shift. She'd felt slightly shielded in her schoolgirl outfit, and the men had behaved themselves for the most part, but the act itself had made her feel ill. As her clients had hardened beneath her arching body, she felt as far away from aroused as she could get. These men were strangers, strangers who bought sexual excitement like it was a movie ticket. It made her ache for Rigsby. His warm eyes, his warm hands. These men made her feel dirty, vulnerable. Rigsby made her feel invincible, worshipped. That's why she'd attacked him with such ferocity last night. She'd wanted to ignite those feelings again. Sexual exploration with him always brought them out. They were all but extinguished now as she pulled back the curtain.

She walked into the Rainbow Room and nearly collapsed with relief.

Liev.

He was sitting on one of the plush chairs, a bouncer stood nearby to make sure he behaved himself. He smiled wolfishly at her and gave her a come hither crook with his finger. He was dressed like she'd never seen him. Black suit, his jacket hanging off the chair, a red tie loosened around his neck. He was just another insurance salesman blowing off steam after work. God love him. She gave him a genuine flirty smile as she straddled his lap. Later, at the House, both he and Cherry were getting huge Thank You cakes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cherry put on her most convincing clueless expression as she walked through the darkened hallways. Eddie had made it clear the other night that these halls were off limits. Storage, he'd said, and the boss's private rooms. Don't worry, Janie baby, nothing interesting back there anyway.

Cherry's feet were bare, her heels dangling from her hand. She slipped quietly around a corner, pausing to listen for footsteps. Or voices. Meth being prepared. Girls crying out their exact location and how best to get to them so they could be sprung to freedom. But there was nothing. No sound at all. That was equally acceptable. She moved forward and came to a service elevator. Looking around quickly, she pressed the down button. She elevator slowly cranked upwards and she silently cursed its noisiness. It finally dinged and the doors opened begrudgingly. Quick as a mouse, she stepped in, placed a camera and mic dead center on the back wall, down by the floor. She quickly checked how many floor buttons there were. Four. One top floor, the main floor, two sub-basements. She was out and back down the hall before the doors had closed. As she tiptoed back the way she came, she fervently prayed no one saw the small black device on the floor. She didn't think so. It was the size of a thumbtack. She also hoped it wasn't accidentally crushed being so close to the ground. But she'd had no choice. Anywhere else on the wall would have been seen. Anywhere else in the elevator wouldn't have shown what was on the other side of the doors as they opened. The middle and low had been the only option. She rounded the corner and moved back into the employee's area. She knew right about now a monitor was lighting up in front of Rigsby out in the van. She prayed it showed him something useful.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The monitor activated in time for him to see a sexy woman in red retreat down the hall. The doors closed behind her. The pixilated view was one of silence and stillness. Rigsby was pleased. The elevator feed would most likely prove very useful. He turned back to the Rainbow Room feed, eager and angry to see Grace there. He knew she had to, but dammit did he hate it. He watched as she walked in with a jutted chin and fake smile, ready to face whatever jerkoff had asked for her. She paused suddenly, her smile melting into genuine happiness at the sight of her client. Rigsby growled at that smile, not noticing the quizzical glance from the other agent on duty tonight, and leaned closer to see who the hell she was so pleased to be dancing for.

She walked forward teasingly and straddled his lap. In the suit, it took a minute for Rigsby to recognize him. He squinted and tried to calm down long enough to ID him. As Grace swooped back from him, he saw the guy clearly.

His red mist instantly left him.

_Never _had he been so glad to see Liev.

Rigsby let out a relieved breath as his pretty girl danced for her gay friend. The fist clenching around his heart relaxed and he gave a choked chuckle. He'd have to thank the man later. Cherry too, probably. They were trying to make this easier for Grace while making her look good for her boss. More clients equaled more money, after all. He scanned the crowd in the main room and quickly noticed Jackson, sitting at the bar and talking with the waitress. He was in baggy street clothes, looking every bit the urban player. Rigsby knew without being a part of their plan that Jackson, after a suitable amount of time, would also ask for Grace. His heart expanded with gratitude for the men from the House. They were there to protect her, to help her, and he would be indebted to anyone who cared for his woman that much.

As he settle back for another long night, he made a mental note to buy them all a beer once this whole mess was over and done with.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31- Skittles, Reece's Pieces and $1 Million Gummy Bear**

"Hey, you Jane?"

Cherry glanced up in surprise from buttoning her coat. One of the bouncers, one of the ones she'd yet to meet and hence yet to charm, was ambling towards her as the rest of the staff was shutting the Pussycat down for the night. The bartenders were racking glasses and counting the till, the dancers were dressing and heading home for the night, most of the bouncers stayed behind to make sure there wasn't any after-hours trouble from clients or stealing from staff. This bouncer had particularly mean cut to him as he stepped too close to Cherry, his eyes moving between appraisal and indifferent distain. She knew this type of man. Unfortunately. Granted, it had been a few years since she'd had to deal with one, but had known plenty of him back in her stripping days. At the House of Ill Repute, she would never allow such angry aggression around her dancers. Still, it didn't mean she couldn't handle it when the need arose. She assumed the corresponding persona to charm an aroused aggressor. She sighed softly, serenely and gave him a smile born of kindness, devoid of flirtation.

"Yes, I'm Jane." She held her coat modestly against her.

"Boss wants to see you." His demeanor didn't change.

"Of course." She moved to walk passed him, then turned back. "Would you escort me? I'm not sure I remember the way."

The bouncer grunted and walked with her down the main hallway. "What's your name?" She asked quietly, her eyes on the floor. If _E.T_. taught her anything, it's that you lay one Reece's Pieces out at a time.

"Mark." He barked the syllable at her.

"Thank you, Mark." She sighed his name gently. Another Reece's Pieces laid down.

They came to the door that Cherry remembered perfectly well and Mark knocked briefly. "Boss, I have Jane here."

"Come in." The familiar voice answered.

Cherry steeled herself and pulled her shoulders back, readying the other Jane persona she'd created for Royko. She didn't know why she'd been summoned, she only knew that she didn't like it. No matter. She would stay calm. Warm. The innocent hayseed who couldn't even spell the word meth, never mind know what it meant.

Mark opened the door and roughly gestured she go inside. "Goodnight, Mark." Another piece.

He huffed as he turned away. "Whatever."

Cherry turned back to Royko and assumed her shy smile. "Hello, Mr. Royko."

Royko looked at her from across his desk and said nothing. He sat back in his chair and began to slowly tap his pen against his desk. He exhaled heavily.

Cherry watched carefully and gauged his mood. He was bothered about something, but his face told her that he wasn't angry. Not yet. He was hoping to make her nervous by not answering her right away. He wanted to worry her with his displeasure.

She glanced surreptitiously at her snow globe. It sat exactly where he'd placed it last night. True, he might have found the camera and put it back to fool her, but she didn't think so. His posture led her to believe this had something to do with Jane and Marie. She allowed her face to convey apprehension, her eyes going wide and questioning.

"Sir? Is everything okay?"

He continued to tap his pen for a few seconds before sitting up straight and clearing his throat. "I'm afraid not, Jane. I think we may have a problem." He gestured to the opposite chair. "Sit down, please."

Cherry did so immediately, cocking her head and rounding her lips in a perfect facsimile of anxiety. "Have I done something wrong? Was a client unhappy with me?"

She saw the hard lines around his eyes soften fractionally. This pleased her.

"No, Jane, you haven't done anything wrong. On the contrary, the clients all seem very smitten with you."

She gave him a relieved, nervous smile. "But there's still a problem?"

He nodded his head gravely. "I'm afraid we have a problem with Marie."

Cherry slipped momentarily into Jane's eyes, hardening at the mention of her sister, before slipping under the surface again, leaving soft confusion in her wake. "Marie?"

He nodded again, twiddling his pen between his fingers. "Kylie tells me that she found Grace hyperventilating in the bathroom. That she made up an excuse to get you, something about a broken seam."

Cherry nodded vigorously. "But she did break a seam, Mr. Royko. Her bra strap broke and I did a quick patch job for her--,"

"Jane," he interrupted softly. "She didn't break a seam. You didn't bring a sewing kit with you when you went to see her."

Cherry cursed silently and made a note to get that nosey bitch Kylie back when the opportunity presented itself. For now, she lowered her head and feigned contrition.

"Why was she upset, Jane? I'm sorry to ask, but dancers crying in the bathroom are bad for business. No one wants to see a weepy stripper on stage."

Cherry was working hard to keep her shamed expression in place. She kept her head lowered as she worked out her story.

"I'm sorry I've lied to you, sir. You're right, my sister was upset. She'd had an argument with our mother on the phone earlier. Mom said some things." Cherry looked up with strategic sadness. "She doesn't exactly approve of what we do."

She felt him hesitantly buying the story's plausibility. She didn't push her advantage with additional information. He could ask if he wanted it. She just let her shoulders slump and sighed softly. "Please don't fire us, Mr. Royko. It won't happen again."

His eyes went slightly wide at that. "Dear Jane, I had no intention of firing you. I just wanted to make sure we weren't dealing with boyfriend trouble. Or pregnancy. That's what usually has my girls crying in the bathroom. I don't need some angry blowhard coming in here and making a scene."

Cherry gave a relieved laugh. "Oh gosh, no sir. Marie doesn't have a boyfriend. Just a mom who wanted to her to be a brain surgeon or lawyer. She'll be fine, I promise."

Royko regarded her closely before nodding his head and setting his pen down. "Fine. Thank you, Jane, and good night to you."

Cherry rose from her chair. "Good night to you too, sir." And disappeared out the door.

_Shitshitshitshitshit_

Cherry tried very hard to look calm and collected as she walked back into the main room where Grace stood waiting for her. She took her purse from Grace, taking the opportunity to lean into her sister and whisper, "We have a problem."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grace stared out the window of Cherry's car as they drove back to the House. "So Royko knows I was freaking out in the bathroom? How?"

Cherry huffed as she made a turn. "Kylie was watching us. I'm seriously going to get her."

"What did you tell him?"

"That our mom phoned to call you a whore and tell you to get a real job. He seemed to buy it. Probably because he liked that fact that it didn't involve men." She glanced at Grace. "Or babies."

"Shit," Grace murmured.

Cherry gave her an encouraging smile. "Don't worry about Royko. I'll handle him as best I can. You'll have your hands full as it is."

Grace looked over. "Why?"

Cherry squinted in surprise at her. "Rigsby. He and the other agent heard everything in the van. My snow globe is still sitting in there."

Grace's heart tripped in her chest. "Oh, my God." The color drained from her face. "I'd forgotten about that. _Ohmygod_."

"Gray, stay calm. He didn't hear anything that couldn't be written off as nerves for doing lap dances. That's all you'd have to tell him."

Grace moaned and dropped her head in her hands. "_Not_ the point, Cher. It was bad enough that I didn't want to tell him I was pregnant until this sting was over. Now I have to actually _lie_ to him about why I was crying? Jesus, what am I going to do?"

Cherry blinked in surprise. Grace never took the lord's name in vain. She was so upset that she didn't even notice she'd done it. She sat knotting her fingers in her lap and fidgeting in her seat. Her baby sister. Cherry ached that she couldn't help her with her dilemma. This was hardly a B in social studies that Cherry could soothe away with a cookie and a funny story. Hell, it couldn't even be solved with one of her more drastic measures, e.g. a Louisville Slugger. Grace had a problem only Grace could solve. Cherry was annoyed that this bothered her as much as it did.

"Do you want advice or reassurance?" Cherry felt weird asking. She'd always been able to tell which was required when it came to Gray.

Grace chuckled despite herself. "Can't you tell?"

"No," Cherry admitted begrudgingly. "These are uncharted waters, Gray. You have a fetus, not a playground boo-boo. I'm not sure what I can offer you, here."

Grace laughed louder. "Just give my your damn opinion and be done with it."

Cherry smirked. "Tell him that the lap dancing got to you. You mention the baby now, and you'll have one hell of a hurricane on your hands. Rigsby's barely hanging on as it is. The sting will be over soon. You won't be showing for ages. Finish the job. Then marry the man and have his baby. Happily ever after yada yada."

Grace snickered. "Yada yada?"

Cherry grinned. "And all that jazz."

"Sooooooo, lie to him."

"Omit certain facts until a more convenient time."

"Cherry the Fabulous Hair-Splitter."

"Hairs split every day of their own accord. Ask your stylist."

Grace laughed again as they pulled into the House parking space. "I'll see how the mood hits me when I see him. But your advice is duly noted. Thank you, kind sister."

Cherry nodded with sage-like seriousness.

"So. Is Jane coming over tonight?" Grace felt better mentioning Cherry's beau now that they'd thoroughly discussed hers.

Cherry pulled the key from the ignition and gave Grace a wink. "Who do you think is watching the girls?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding. You left him with the girls? Are you crazy?"

Cherry gave her patented mock innocent look. "Why ever would I not?"

Grace stared wide-eyed and giggling. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because he's teaching them the ancient art of grifting, even as we speak."

Cherry waved her hand dismissively as they entered the front door and walked towards the kitchen. "Like they're not already warped from seeing burlesque dancing every day? We might as well round out their Vegas education and teach them to count cards, pick pockets and carry loaded dice too."

"Don't forget confidence scams. That's where the money is."

The two women started at Jane's voice calling from the kitchen. They rounded the kitchen door and found Jane and the girls bent over a poker game at the table. Cheetos, gummy bears and Skittles filled the pot. SoSo sat with her cards slipping freely from her hand and Jane was busy eating Lila's Cheetos.

"You're eating my ante, Patrick!"

"You ate my $1 million gummy bear. I had two mortgages riding on that bear."

SoSo grinned at Cherry and Grace. "Gray! Mommy! I know poker!"

Cherry looked suitably impressed. "That's great, baby. So what beats four aces?"

SoSo looked down at her cards and back up again. "Patrick beats them. Ooh, and Skittles."

Jane chuckled. "Me and Skittles. We're unstoppable."

Cherry shook her head. "I leave you with my children and you hustle them while pumping them full of sugar?"

"Don't worry. I tempered their sugar intake with salt. We've covered the basic food groups."

Cherry kissed SoSo's forehead, then Lila's. "What? You couldn't squeeze caffine, alcohol and tobacco into their meal? What kind of babysitter are you?"

Jane pointed to his own forehead. "Ah-hem."

Cherry grinned and kissed his brow. "Thank you for watching them."

"Eeeeeeew," Lila's and SoSo's ew were joined by Grace.

Rigsby appeared in the doorway behind Grace. "What are we ew-ing about?" He shuffled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She smiled and turned her head, kissing him hello.

"EEEEEEEEEW," the girls were joined by Cherry and Jane this time.

Grace turned back to them and stuck her tongue out. "Fine. Me and my boyfriend are going upstairs to kiss." Still holding each other, they walked out.

"No loud music," teased Cherry.

"Leave your door open," added Jane.

"Shut up!" Rigsby and Grace laughed as they disappeared down the corridor.

Cherry turned back to her children and clapped her hands twice. "All right, Casino Night's over. You cheap floozies can eat your winnings later. Up to your room, chop chop. I want jammies on and teeth brushed in ten minutes."

The girls jumped down from the table and headed for the door. Lila turned back. "Can Patrick read us a story?"

Cherry smiled. "Sure, baby. Now scoot."

The girls disappeared upstairs. Jane slid his arms around Cherry and kissed her softly, his hands wandering over her coat, trying to guess which femme fatale outfit that she chose for that night. She smiled against his lips.

"You'll see it later."

He smiled back. "Aren't you tired? I _can_ control myself if the lady doth protest too much, you know."

"The lady doth no such thing, I assure you." She buried her face into his neck and snuggled deep into his side. "I want you," she whispered.

"Then you'll have me," he promised. "Just let me read their story and I'll be right with you."

She giggled. "Fine. Just make sure the story isn't a racing form."

He looked shocked. "But I've got a line on a horse. I know a guy who says she can't lose."

"Great. Just make sure she's ridden by a prince and saves some needy chick in a tower. And don't give that horse odds." She pecked his lips, then walked towards the door. "Unless they're better than twelve to seven."


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32- The Eye of the Needle**

As Grace slowly unbuttoned her coat, she heard Rigsby walk into the bathroom and turn the bathtub faucet on. She sighed happily. She'd been too tired to think about it, but a bath actually sounded great. She kicked off her heels and stretched her toes. Man, her feet were killing her. How did the troupe dance in these things all the time? She stretched out her calves and they screamed in protest. Cancel the bath. She needed a boiling hot spring. She'd cook her muscles, if that's what it took. She slipped out of her coat and stood in her black bra and underwear.

"What happened to wearing outfits?" Rigsby snaked his arms around her from behind. She hummed softly, leaning back completely against him.

"I didn't want Royko thinking I was too prudish. I asked Cherry for something a bit more skimpy." She looked over her shoulder at him. "How do I look?"

He nuzzled his face against hers. "Edible."

She closed her eyes and smiled. "You're too sweet."

He bent down and picked her up gently, turning to the bathroom and walking her to the tub. He set her down by the rim. "Get in. Relax."

She quickly removed her underwear before lowering herself onto one of the submerged benches. Oooh, yeah. This was exactly what she needed. The hot water welcomed her with open arms and immediately went to work on her aching body. She sighed and leaned her head back, looking at him as she did so. He was appraising her, a soft smile on his lips. Her eyes roved down his suit.

"Join me?"

He smirked and nodded before pulling at his clothes. He was naked in no time and sinking into the tub beside her. Just like their first night together, Grace instantly moved into his lap, straddling his thighs. But unlike their first night, she didn't attack him. Instead, she pulled his arms tightly around her and snuggled into his chest, pressing herself into the firm brick of his body. Her arms went around his neck and her head dropped against his shoulder, her forehead against his throat.

As the water ate at their tension, Rigsby finally broke his silence. "What happened in the bathroom?"

Grace thought she'd tense at his question, but shocked herself by answering without a hitch. "I had a momentary freak out. Cherry talked me down. I guess the lap dances upset me more than I realized they would." She shocked herself even further by lifting her head and giving him a wide-eyed plea. "Don't tell Lisbon? I don't want her thinking I can't handle this."

He gazed at her kindly, not doubting her for a moment. She cursed that he trusted her so completely. He rubbed her back soothingly and nodded. "You know I won't. Is that why she sent Liev and Jackson to you?"

She settled back against his shoulder, mostly to break their eye contact. "Yes. Exactly." She giggled at the memory of dancing for the boys. "The only ideas I gave _them_ were critiques on my moves."

She clutched him closer, feeling the press of her stomach against his. She smiled timidly. Their baby was nestled between them, warm and safe. She already loved it almost as much as she loved the father. She wiggled against him and tried to feel it, even though she knew it was far too early to detect any changes. Earlier that day she'd done some research. Apparently it was no bigger than the eye of a needle right now. She'd thought at the time how amazing that was, thinking about Wayne and imagining the 6'4" man as no bigger than a grain of sand. If they had a boy, would he grow as tall as his daddy? Her smile grew bigger and sappier at the thought. She pressed a kiss into Wayne's throat.

"I love you so much," she whispered against him.

He nudged her to sit up in his lap. He smiled at her tiredly, still stroking her back. She felt water using her hair as a wick, the wetness creeping up towards her scalp. His hands helped it along, tangling his fingers in her damp mane.

"Have you thought about it any more?"

She furrowed her brow.

"About marrying me?"

Her brow smoothed out and her eyes dropped to his chest. Ah, yes. That.

"I don't want to pressure you, Gray. If you asked me to, I'd wait forever. But..." he smiled sheepishly. "…but I'd like to think you'll take pity on me and tell me sooner rather than later."

Her eyes wandered back up to his and she cupped his throat in her hands. At least on this topic, she could be honest. "I think about it everyday," she answered.

His eyes brightened. Big and blue and happy. He looked so much like a little boy sometimes. It made her little secret that much harder to withhold. "And?"

She blew out a slow breath. "And I want this sting to end before we decide on anything."

His face fell. His eyes lowered as he tried to hide his disappointment. Anything short of 'yes' felt like a crushing rejection. She pushed her palms under his chin, nudging him to look at her. His sad expression nearly killed her. Tears threatened to prick her eyes. Why did he have to be this soulful? Why did her resolve always crumble with just one glance? To save her sanity, she brushed her lips on his before whispering, "I _cannot_ live without you, baby. Let me finish this assignment. Let me prove myself to the team. Then," she swallowed and bit the bullet. "I'll marry you that same day, if you want."

Brilliant blue lights exploded in his eyes. The sky, the ocean, the bluest blue bird were put to shame. "You'll marry me?"

She smiled and framed his face in her hands. "Yes."

He launched forward and he hugged her with a crushing force. She gasped and giggled as he pressed frantic, delirious kisses on her shoulder, throat and face. He was murmuring furiously between kisses.

"Love you…so much…'m so happy, baby…can't believe it…oh, my God…love you…"

He suddenly pulled back, looking skeptical. "You're sure?"

She arched her brow at him. "Yeeeeees. Why?" she smirked. "You wanna take it back?"

"_Nonononono_. I just…want to be sure it's what you want. That _I'm_ what you want." He blushed and looked down at his last sentence.

Still cupping his cheeks, she nudged his eyes back up. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."

The smile that knocked her breathless came roaring back. "Gray," he whispered, brushing his lips against hers. "I'll spend every day making sure you never regret it."

She giggled, bumping his forehead gently with hers. "Quit acting like you've won the lottery, buster. I come with all kinds of baggage, you know. I'm the one who'll be spending every day making sure _you_ don't regret it."

"Who wants to win the lottery? Too much is lost in tax. Nope, I'm getting a sassy redhead with great legs who loves me. She could have any man she wants, but she chose me. That's better than winning eight Mega Millionaire lotteries."

She giggled again. "But you draw the line at nine?"

He shrugged. "Well, come on. I mean, _nine_ Mega Millionaire lotteries? I'm not made of stone. I might have to take winning nine lotteries over you."

She shrieked and punched him. He laughed and grabbed her fists, water splashing everywhere. "You are in SO much trouble. I agree to marry you, only to find out that I'm not even worth my weight in lotto tickets? You're SO dead!"

She leaned forward and bit his lips playfully while trying futilely to free her fists from his iron grip.

"Aw, comm'on, Gray. You can marry me in the meantime! I promise I'll only leave you _if_ I win nine lotteries. What are the chances of that happening? Like…one in twenty? One in thirty? The odds are totally in our favor!"

She shrieked again and laughed until her sides hurt. Rigsby was no better off, holding her fists and laughing so hard that his body rippled violently underneath her.

Grace was nearly hiccupping with residual giggles as she croaked out, "Jerk."

Grinning wide, he pulled her close. "Beautiful angel."

She felt a retort rise up, but the sincerity in his eyes melted her playful indignation. "Wayne," she whispered softly. "Take me to bed."

His grin disappeared and he kissed her deeply. Her arms went around his neck as she opened her mouth to him, feeling his tongue seek hers out and slide deliciously against it. She pressed her breasts into his chest and he rumbled his approval deep in his throat. "I can't believe it," he whispered. "We're getting married."

She held on as he stood up from the bath and climbed out, walking them to the bed, not bothering to dry off. "A reenactment?" she asked playfully.

"Yes," he answered as he laid her down gently. He crawled over her, settling his hips between hers and resting on his elbows, taking some of his weight and getting as close as possible without crushing her.

Grace shivered. A reenactment. She'd meant it jokingly, but as Wayne slowly entered her body, making both of them moan with pleasure, she couldn't help but wonder if it had been their first time that had created their child. That first physical expression of their love. Had it manifested so spectacularly? Her thoughts were interrupted as he buried himself to the hilt and she gasped, her body electrified with his presence. Wayne set a slow pace, thrusting deeply, kissing deeply. Grace whimpered and pulled him down further. He resisted, but she pulled harder. He finally gave her more of his weight and she groaned in ecstasy. He was so heavy. So warm. As he fluidly pumped in and out, she could already feel her walls fluttering, her nerves screaming with joy as he massaged them with his firm strokes. As they both strained together, reaching desperately for their climax, Grace kissed his ear and whispered as he pushed her over the brink.

"Love you, baby."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So what's next, Teresa?" Cherry sat with her legs crossed at the conference table looking very understatedly classy in her jeans and black cashmere sweater. The team sat with them as they worked out the next phase of their plan. As the group talked, Jane daydreamed. Cherry's sweater was driving Jane to distraction. He had been particularly grabby that morning, catching her again and again in her bedroom and running his hands over the incredible softness of the material. It was like touching a baby rabbit. Except he was touching a goddess that dropped him with a glance. Her curves pressed invitingly into his hands and he'd tried his damnedest to strip that sweater right off of her. She'd shaken her head teasingly, whispering that they didn't have time. Instead, she'd sunk to her knees, opened his fly, and put her pouty lips around his straining erection. His brain forgot everything except how to stand up and how to groan. She snaked one arm up his chest, letting his fingers restlessly run up and down her soft sleeve. He wasn't sure where her abilities came from since burlesque didn't include blowjobs, but when she pushed him against her inner cheek and rolled her hand along the other side, he screamed as his release momentarily blinded him. She held on, not letting him go until he was a shuddering puddle. When he gasped his last, she stood up and kissed him hard, slipping her tongue into his mouth and making him taste himself on her. The raw sensuality of it had him growling into her mouth. She pulled away and smiled.

"I hate to be vulgar," she grinned wickedly at him. "But you are a fantastic fuck."

Jane's breath caught and he smiled. Not one to scandalize easily, he gave his own shocking comment. "How very vulgar indeed," he pulled her closer and brought his lips to her ear. "Now I want you to remember that when we're sitting at that table talking about work." He fingered the cashmere over her breasts. "I'll certainly be thinking about how I want to be fucking you in nothing but this sweater."

He smirked when she gasped into his shoulder.

Now, sitting at the conference table and watching her blithely talk about the sting, his words backfired severely. As she chatted amiably about cameras and mic feeds, all he could imagine was stripping her jeans off, lifting her onto the table and taking her hard and fast while his hands roved over every inch of that sweater. And yet she appeared unaffected, barely glancing his way as she spoke. Damn her.

Lisbon's voice cut through his train of thought.

"The video feeds have shown us some interesting pieces."

Rigsby nodded. "Surprisingly, not much has come from Royko's office. Even in his lair, he's very careful. Phone conversations limited to one-word questions and answers. Meetings arranged by notes we can't see. He also uses an extensive code when discussing business other than the club. We have breakers looking at the footage, but so far, they haven't come up with anything useful." He paused and took a sip of water. "The most promising thing we've seen so far is the freight elevator feed."

Cherry nodded.

Cho spoke up. "I've been watching the feed since early this morning. The top and main floor are useless. The top only shows a hallway, so no joy there. We know what's on the main floor. The basements, however, open into two large spaces. The first looks like a booze cage, but there could be anything behind it. The second…" He trailed off and looked at Lisbon. She raised her brows questioningly. _Continue_, they said.

"The second caught an image of a large group of people bent over workbenches, all dressed in sanitation suits. It certainly looked like a meth lab." He paused, glancing at Lisbon again. "There appeared to be blood on the floor, just outside of the elevator."

"Blood? Why would there be blood in a meth lab?" Grace looked up perplexedly from her notes.

"Theft." Jane concluded instantly.

Lisbon shifted her gaze to him. "Of meth?"

"Of course. Someone was caught trying to leave with meth concealed in their suit. They were beaten, possibly killed, before they reached the elevator."

Grace pulled a face of distaste. "Why not clean up the blood?"

"As a lesson to the others." Jane answered assuredly.

Momentary silence fell over the group.

Once again, Cherry returned her attention to Lisbon. "What would you like us to do now?"

In turn, Lisbon turned to Grace. "Van Pelt, I need you to get down to the second basement. I want video and mic feed from that room. I have no idea what's going on down there, but if it's a lab, then the feed will prove it. The problem is that they almost definitely have their own security set up down there. That means don't take _anything_. Leave the meth, we'll get it in the raid. We'll get you a suit so you blend in, but you'll have to change quickly in the elevator."

Grace nodded. "No problem."

"And the girls? What do we do about them?" Cherry's voice had an edge to it.

Lisbon heard it and sought to mollify her. "We're doing everything we can. The feeds haven't shown us anything that would indicate a slave ring being operated out of the Pussycat. And you said yourself that Royko wasn't the type to operate from his own office. Once we get enough to bust them for narcotics, we'll tear the place apart for evidence on the ring."

Cherry's chin jutted minutely. Only two people in the room saw it and knew she was angry. "Very well, Teresa."

Lisbon nodded and stood up. "All right. Van Pelt, go over the footage with Cho and get familiar with the second basement's outline. Rigsby, tonight I want the van parked as close as possible without being seen. If Van Pelt is found, I want you close."

Rigsby's eyes went chilly and serious. "Yes, boss."

As they filed out of the conference room, Cherry turned to Jane. "Mr. Jane, would you mind walking me to my car? Sis? I'll see you at the House tonight to pick up your outfit?"

Grace gave her a puzzled glance, but nodded. Cherry smiled and turned to Jane. "Shall we?"

Jane cocked his head fractionally, but offered his arm. "Of course."

Walking to the parking complex with Cherry at his side, Jane could feel the wheels turning in her head as they approached her car. When they reached the driver's side, he leaned close and whispered. "I doubt very much you've brought me out here for romantic reasons, Miss Cherry."

Cherry looked down in a damn fine attempt at embarrassment before looking up at him shyly, her big brown eyes soft and vulnerable. Jane laughed out loud. _She _was trying to play _him_? Oh, the delightful audacity of this girl.

"Adorable, but no dice," he said as he slipped his hand into her hair. "Spill."

Still looking sweet and defenseless, her moved into his space and let her fingers wander lightly over his vest. "I was just hoping you might come and see me tonight," she murmured softly.

"Before you leave for the club," he probed.

"_At_ the club," she clarified.

"Aaaaaah," Jane leered down at her. "The plot thickens."

She blinked at him in total innocence. "Perhaps I just want a big, strong man around to protect me, like Grace has with Rigsby."

He snorted. "Perhaps you're in need of my other services," He traced a finger down the velvety neckline of her sweater. "Something more devious and far less noble than protection."

She bit her lip playfully, her fingers winding into his belt loops, pulling him closer. "How are you at picking locks?"


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33- The Schill**

Later that night Rigsby dropped Grace off at the House to pick up her outfit. She had a challenge for Cherry. The team had found a sanitation suit identical to those worn in the lab footage, but now the sisters had to figure out how to hide the suit on Grace so she could change in the elevator without carrying it in plain sight. Grace figured they'd have to wrap it around her and use a corset or something over it, but that would prove tricky. The paper would crinkle as she moved and the corset had to be laced by another person. She'd be alone in the elevator, and she didn't have that kind of time anyway. Time to call in the specialists. At the door, Cherry took the thin suit from Grace's hands and held it up, scrutinizing it. She smirked at her sister and beckoned her to follow. "I always love a challenge," she said as they headed to the costume area.

It didn't challenge her much, as it turned out. Cherry cast a practiced eye over their extensive collection of risqué ensembles in racks and boxes that were scattered all over the backstage, weighing the papery suit in her hand the whole time. She eyes stopped at one particular rack of fantasy outfits. Slowly, without moving towards the rack, Cherry began to roll the suit up as compactly as possible in her hand. The legs the torso, the arms, the hood, were all slowly enveloped into a packet about the size of small can. Not seeing where she was looking, Grace raised a skeptical brow at Cherry.

"I can't think of a single place on my body I can convincingly hide that, Cher."

Cherry gave her a knowing smile. "Oh ye of little faith."

She walked over to the rack and pulled a nurse's uniform, complete with a stethoscope, white boots…and a small wedge cap with a red cross on it. Cherry popped the suit into the cap with plenty of room to spare. She looked up triumphantly at her sister. "Who's your daddy?"

Grace laughed. "More like my pimp. Why didn't you tell me about Liev and Jackson last night? Not that I don't love you guys forever for buying my services."

Cherry shrugged. "I hated watching you dance that first night. I know how despicable you find it. So I rustled up the menfolk and gave them each $100 to spend on you."

Grace's eyes melted, then went hard on principle. "You don't need to protect me, Cher. It's my job."

Cherry's eyes also went soft, then hard. "Fuck that. You're my sister. You're preggo. And the boys want to help as much as I do. They'll come even if I call them off now."

Grace's eyes widened. "Now? You mean they're coming again?"

Cherry shrugged again, looking away. "You might be receiving a certain gentleman tonight who produces a wad of cash to procure your company…for most of the night."

"Dammit, Cher."

"Sue me. You know you're glad, so just go with it. Plus he'll make sure you can get downstairs without an actual client being able to ask for you. Meanwhile," Cherry tossed her the outfit. "Get dressed, Nurse Goodensexy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Out in the darkened van, Rigsby let out another relieved breath when he recognized yet another plant in the Pussycat clientele. From the camera facing the bar, he clearly made out Juarez as he ordered a pricey shot of top shelf gin, then crooked his finger at the smoking hot nurse standing near the stage. She saw him and giggled, her hand dipping between her exquisite cleavage to play with the stethoscope nestled there. Her wedge cap perched fetchingly on her spill of red waves, the red cross winking at everyone, letting them know she was the cure of all ills. She sashayed over to Juarez and shyly took his money, handing it across the bar to the keep and informing them that this gentleman had paid for the whole evening. Rigsby saw the barkeep nod before making a note and throwing the money into a lockbox. Grace playfully pulled at his arm and took him to one of the plush chairs in a dark corner, sitting in his lap and leaning into him flirtingly. Juarez smiled kindly and dutifully put his hands on her thigh and ass. Their friendship and trust was so obvious to Rigsby that, even though he was a jealous man, he felt nothing but relief. He silently added Juarez to the list of people he owed a drink.

Just then another figure entered the club, the entrance camera showing him clearly. Rigsby was so focused on the camera showing Grace that the other agent's voice startled him. He forgot his name off-hand. Another guy from narcotics. Something Darling. He only knew that because everyone called him Darling for its sentimental, girly effect. Hello, _Darling_. And so forth.

"What the hell is Jane doing in there?"

Rigsby looked up instantly. "What?"

Darling pointed to the other monitor. "Jane. He just walked in." He looked at Rigsby. "You didn't mention he'd be here tonight. What the hell are you guys playing at?"

Rigsby watched in shock as Jane sauntered into the club and scanned the crowds lazily before walking up to the bar and ordering a drink. When he turned, his eyes zeroed in on Cherry dancing on stage.

Rigsby gulped. "Oh, shit."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cherry finished with her number, gave the whistling crowds a little wink, and disappeared behind the curtain. She'd barely finished freshening up when Mark popped his head around backstage. "Jane!"

She looked up from the mirror. "Yes, Mark?"

He jerked his thumb towards the main room. "Client asking for you."

She gave him her kind smile, still hoping she could chip a notch of affection for her somewhere in his hostile armor. "And here I was hoping you came to see me."

He cracked a smile and snorted. She felt slightly vindicated. _Tiny score one me. _

He disappeared and she gave herself a final one-over. Soft makeup, pink bra, matching underwear, clear heels. Check. She headed out front.

She walked up to the bar and leaned over to the barkeep and called over the music. "Someone asking for me?"

She suddenly felt someone close at her back. "Hey, pretty lady. Buy you a drink?"

A huge grin exploded in her mind, but never reached her lips. She turned and gave her blonde client a slight nod. "Sure, handsome. I'll take a club soda."

The barkeep instantly set one up and gave him a questioning look. "Whiskey. Best you got." The drink was set up by the soda.

"So," he purred softly as he settled in the seat next to her. "Gotta name, little girl?"

"Don't we all?" she asked teasingly before leaning into him. "I'm Jane."

"Jane," he drew the name out lazily. "I've always liked that name."

She giggled. "What's yours?"

"Rick."

"Hmmm, Rick." Cherry tapped her finger against her lip as she appraised him. "Nope, doesn't suit you."

He chuckled. "Are you this charming with all of your customers?"

She leaned closer, brushing her lips to his ear. "Just the ones I really like."

She pulled back and he produced a $100 out of nowhere, holding it up coldly between them. "Dance for me, Jane."

Cherry's eyes widened slightly. She hadn't expected that. "A dance?"

Jane smirked at Cherry's surprise. He'd got her. He loved when he managed to do that.

"Now, please."

His tone was all business, not a client to displease. Cherry shivered. _Unbelievable_. He was playing with her, taking advantage of her situation and making her sell herself to him for money. She had to admit it, it shocked her. What she had given to Patrick Jane before this night, it had all been from _her_, not Cherry the dancer, but Cherry the slightly damaged widow bent on controlling every situation with insight. Tonight, Jane was asking for the _other _Cherry. Stage Cherry. Stripper Cherry. She lowered her head to hide her expression. It was not one of disgust. Quite the opposite. As sleazy as his request was, it was turning her on as few things ever had. She looked up again and smiled shyly. He wanted to play?

"Yes, Rick. Come with me."

She'd play.

She took him to the Rainbow Room. Patrick handed the money off to the bouncer without looking at him and made himself comfortable in one of the plush chairs. Cherry walked over slowly and bent to whisper in his ear. "You can't touch me, Rick, but I can touch you." She crawled into his lap, settling her long legs around him and arching sensually. "I really _want_ to touch you." Her lips just inches from his.

It was a line if Jane ever heard one. A line parroted to every sad Joe who walked through those curtains and handed over a Benji for a few minutes of delusional affection. The woman riding your lap is your one true love and _wants_ to touch you. Saints be praised. Jane knew better than most about the power of suggestion.

But the way Cherry said it. The way she leaned in ever-so-slightly and dragged the word _want _through her lips. The way her eyes met his and he saw Cherry, not Jane, flit across them and darken with desire.

Suddenly he was every sad Joe. This woman _wanted _to touch him. He'd paid his money and was just as certain as they ever were. This was his true love dancing for him.

The music in the Rainbow Room was softer and slower than the thumping techno in the main room. Cherry squirmed in his lap, fine tuning. She waited for the right moment in the beat before she pushed herself forward and slid her chest along his. She came up slowly, raising up on her knees and grazing his chin with her breasts. Her soft skin pressed gently against the rough scrape of his jaw line. Her bare tummy pressed warmly into his chest, her little fake bellybutton ring dragged a line of pure electricity through his shirt.

He knew it was all show. The groan that escaped his lips annoyed him.

Her cheek moved alongside his and he felt the smallest sound breeze across his ear and into his hair. "_Ha_."

She'd got him. She knew it too. He wanted a dance? He'd damn well get one.

She swooped back, laying flat across his thighs, her beautiful body spread across him. Soft pink shades pleaded with him to reach out and touch. To stroke. Her prone body arched upwards, searching desperately for his hands. Her breasts pressed achingly into her bra, lonely, needing him to cup them, lick them. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, her lips pursed, the very picture of arousal. _Where are you, baby? I need you so much._

How was she talking to him with no words? And why was she torturing him with her desire when he was incapable of quenching it? Her legs squeezed his pleadingly, her groin pressed firmly into his. Her panties were begging to be torn off, the sweetness behind them asking to be plundered. He suddenly felt the muscles in her ass ripple against his lap and he groaned louder. He knew that sensation. It meant she was flexing her inner walls, fluttering and clenching them as hard as she could. She reserved this for when she wanted to pull him deeper into her body, or when she was coming so hard that her body pulled him in regardless of her wishes. Now she was doing it to torture him, to inform him that a surprise party was waiting for him inside her luscious form, and all he had to do was attend. It was unbearable.

She swooped back up suddenly, sliding along his chest again as she leaned into his ear once more. "I'm so wet for you, baby. You feel so good underneath me."

Jane moaned against her shoulder, his hands screaming to move away from the armrests, grab the temptress riding his lap and rip every thread off her body and his own before throwing her to the floor and burying himself in her begging little center. This was the worst idea he'd ever had in his long history of bad ideas. He'd paid a woman for sexual stimulation. He'd never expected it to work. The crook of her neck was barely an inch from his lips. He could smell her perfume. More infuriatingly, he could smell her desire. Murmuring softly, he allowed himself the tiniest infraction, he moved forward that inch and kissed her neck softly. Swiftly. It was over before it began. "You're killing me."

She skillfully flipped against him, her back to his chest. Her bare skin skimmed his shirt while her ass pressed firmly into his erection. She rested her head against his throat and whispered loud enough for only him to hear. "You paid to be killed."

Suddenly the music quieted and the bouncer made a gesture to Cherry. Time's up. And just like that, her desire flipped off like a switch and she stood up with the same cool indifference as if she were standing up from a barber's chair. She gazed down at him and offered her hand. "Did you enjoy yourself, Rick?"

Glaring at her, he stood up without her help. His erection was tenting his pants clearly, but he made no move to hide it. "I think you can see for yourself, Jane."

She smiled at him. Her Stepford hostess smile. Oh, he was going to get her for this. Seducing _him_? Reducing _him_? He was Patrick Jane, goddammit. He immediately felt his erection recede as his rationality and arrogance took the fore once again. Later, when he was alone, he would berate himself for knowingly walking into a honey trap and falling for it anyway. Right now, he and Cherry had business to take care of. "Can I buy you another club soda, Jane?"

She giggled and took his arm. "I'd like that very much."

They walked out together into the main room and ordered more drinks from the waitress. As they settled into a secluded table, Cherry leaned forward. "I'm guessing what I felt in your left pocket wasn't a rabbit," she smiled gently. "You brought tools?"

He was still reeling from her dance and his own gullibility, but he nodded. "As requested."

"Excellent."

"So," he traced a finger down her forearm, loving that he could touch her lightly in this place and it was totally expected (unless he got too fresh, obviously). "What's the plan? I'm at your disposal."

She flipped her arm so that his finger touched the underside near her wrist. A simple movement, unnoticed and unimportant to anyone else, yet it spoke volumes to him. It wasn't sexual, but it was incredibly intimate. He traced the tiny blue veins before dipping into her palm. He heard her inhale softly, but sharply, her nerves tingling under his touch.

"Now we wait." Barely there sentence. He had to strain to hear it.

He nodded, making random patterns in her hand. By the time he reached the tips of her fingers, their wait came to an unceremonious end.

"KYLIIIEEEE! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE NOW!" A male voice roared from near the entrance, slicing over the music and causing everyone to turn in its direction. Jane's hand was stilled as Cherry's slapped over it.

"Here we go," she said conversationally. No need to whisper now.

Several bouncers were heading in the direction of the scream, which continued at the same decibel level. "Oh, fuck no! I'm not leaving until I see Kylie AND her new fuckin' man. Where is he, Ky? Get him out here now!"

Jane was pulled from his seat as Cherry dragged him away from the ruckus and over by the hallway leading to Royko's office. "Get ready," she whispered.

Jane craned his neck to see who the hell was making such a racket, but Cherry cupped his cheeks and pulled his face back to hers. She pulled them up against the wall, guiding his hands to either side of her head. "You only see me," she whispered. Jane did as instructed, looking at her and pretending to flirt as more people gathered by the front door.

"Get Royko! That's his name right? Get him the fuck out here now! He can tell me himself that he's leaving his wife for you, bitch!"

Over Jane's shoulder, Cherry watched as Johnny performed beautifully. Her blonde dancer screamed his rage at the poor woman who had no idea who he was or what he was talking about, but that didn't stop Eddie from nudging Mark. "Get the boss. He might want to handle this."

Mark nodded and headed down the hallway, passing Cherry and Jane on the way. They were just a stripper and a client, no reason to even glance their way. Jane leaned down to her ear. "You're evil," he grinned against her.

She placed a tiny, unseen kiss at the base of his throat. "That's why you love me," she answered distractedly. Jane's brain froze. Cherry continued to watch and wait. She'd been so immersed in the scene before her that she didn't even hear her sentence, it being her automatic response when Grace said the exact same thing to her all the time. _You're evil_, her sister would giggle. Cherry would always answer, _That's why you love me_. She didn't notice Jane's shiver against her. She didn't notice the darkening of his eyes. She certainly didn't feel the tiny, almost imperceptible nod of his head.

Instead, she quickly noticed a hot nurse as she quietly headed down the Off Limits hall on the other side of the room. Not two seconds after she disappeared, Cherry saw Royko storming down their hallway, Mark in tow. Cherry turned her mega-watt smile on Jane. "You ready to make a run for it, Rick?"

"Tell me when, Jane."

Royko fumed right passed them, not even seeing them, and Cherry had Jane by the arm, pulling him quickly, urgently down the hall.

"Let's go, Houdini."


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34- FUBAR**

The commotion grew fainter as Grace slithered down the hallway. The minute she saw Johnny, she squeezed Juarez's hand and slipped off his lap. He gave her a slight nod and headed for the men's room as she went in the opposite direction, removing himself from sight and hence from memory that he had ordered Grace for the evening. Cherry had told him to disappear, just in case they saw him sitting alone and went looking for his companion, irritated that she'd abandoned her client.

As Grace moved through the darkened corridor, she cursed that couldn't take off her boots. They clicked softly on the floor, alerting anyone walking the other way that she was coming. No time to worry about it now, though. She took off her cap and grabbed the paper suit, holding it in her fist as she came to the service elevator doors. With a shaky finger, she pressed the down button. She quickly pulled the suit on and over her nurse outfit, zipping up the front and pulling the hood over her head. Anyone who looked at her face would blow her cover in an instant, so she prayed that—if anyone did see her—it was from behind. The elevator trundled up slowly and opened with a ding. She stepped in and hit the button for the bottom floor. She saw the small camera on the floor where Cherry had planted it. She felt so relieved that Wayne could see her that she almost waved. Instead, she reached into her suit and pulled out her stethoscope. She pulled off the false ear plugs and heart listening thingy and removed the camera and mics from within. She found herself chuckling. Nurse Goodensexy, indeed.

She held the devices in her hand and tried to calm her slamming heart as the car hit the bottom floor and dinged quietly. The doors opened. Grace gasped softly and drew her shoulders back. She could do this. In and out, two minutes tops. _Strength in, doubt out._

The first thing she saw was the blood. She tried desperately not to visibly react to it. She was supposed to work here. She'd supposedly see it everyday. But the video footage hadn't prepared her for the Technicolor reality of it. It was dark, heavily oxidized. Old blood. And there was a lot. _A lot_ a lot. Grace did a rough calculation and came up with approximately three pints. _Three pints_. The poor person wouldn't necessarily be dead, but she doubted very much that these people beat the shit out of them, then kindly took them to the hospital. Grace shook herself. No time for this.

She stepped out of the elevator and onto the stain like she didn't even see it. The room stood open and cavernous before her.

There was no one.

The individual stations were completely empty, almost like drug manufacturers kept office hours. Everyone had gone home for the day. Two things instantly occurred to Grace. First, relief. She wouldn't be spotted by anyone. Second, terror. Lisbon said they'd have their own cameras. Surely they did, and if so, she'd already been caught on film. She was alone, no other drones to blend in with. Whoever was watching, they'd know she wasn't supposed to be there. They'd watch her every move. They'd see her plant the bugs.

She was momentarily paralyzed. What should she do? She looked back at the elevator car, still open. Wayne could still see her, but couldn't help her. Should she go back? No. She couldn't. This was it. They'd know something was up if she left now. She had to think of something quickly. Something that would let her plant her bugs but not arouse suspicion. _Think!_ Grace screamed at her own brain.

Suddenly it came to her. Lisbon's orders. _Don't take anything. Leave the meth_. She scanned the lab. Yes, there. Over on one of the work benches in the corner, there were several small packages of product, all ready to go. She'd have to take them. There was no alternative. They knew she was here, or very soon would depending on how often they checked the tapes. The only way to cover planting the bugs was to steal the drugs. She hurried over to the station. It was in a good place as far as the room layout went. Everything could be seen from there. She quickly snatched up the packages, making a show of it. She pretended the shift them in her hands and drop one. Picking it off the floor, she threw a mic under the workstation. Standing back up, she pretended to search for more packages along a wall shelf, leaving the camera behind. She wiped the sweat pouring off her forehead. She had to get out. Now. If she got back to the main room, they'd think it was a simple theft and terrorize the workers later. They'd never look for the bugs. But they might be watching now. They might be coming now. Time to go.

She threw down one more mic by the elevator as she scurried into its waiting maw. Gasping with fear, she pressed the main floor button and threw herself against the back wall, trembling from her adrenaline rush as the doors slowly closed. She exhaled shakily. She made it! She—

Oh, no. _Fuck!_

The main floor request button lit up. Someone on her floor had called the elevator. Shit! Grace's heart thumped hard in her chest. Without thinking, she punched the first sub-basement floor button. Was she too late? Had she already passed the first basement? Would the door open on the main floor? She searched the elevator cube in a panic. There's was nowhere to go. It wasn't like regular elevators with a service hatch that she could hoist herself up into. It was sealed on all sides. She dropped to her knees next to the camera. _Wayne!_ She thought desperately. But no! She threw herself back from the camera. If the door opened on the main floor in front of someone, she couldn't risk them finding it. She might be screwed, but she wouldn't be caught sobbing into a hidden bug like a child.

Suddenly the first basement floor button unlit. Oh, thank God. The doors opened noisily and Grace launched herself into the open, dimly lit booze cage, whipping around to watch the elevator as it slowly closed back up and continued on its way. She almost cried with relief. She was okay. She'd finished the job. The cameras and mics were safely downstairs and all she had to do was wait a few minutes, then call the elevator again to get back upstairs. She gave into a few panting draws of air, refilling her lungs as they unfroze from their panic.

She eased back further into the booze cage, feeling safer in the shadows. She turned slightly, looking over the boxes of Bacardi and Jim Beam. There was mesh caging around the back, the outline of a door faintly visible. Her brow creased. Strange, why would there be mesh _behind _the booze? How did that protect it? Slowly, she made her way towards the doorframe at the back, sidestepping the various boxes, keeping her high heels as quiet as possible. She shivered. The cage was cold. She was grateful that she still had the paper suit on. It wasn't much, but it was more than her micro shorts gave her. She transferred the meth packages into one hand before she reached out for the knob and turned it. Unlocked. _What the hell?_

She opened the door, slipping through and grabbing a bottle of vodka. She placed the bottle on its side in the jam. She didn't know if the door locked from this side and she certainly wasn't going to test it. She turned back to the area she'd just entered. It was even darker than the cage. She squinted, trying to make out the contents of the room. As she stepped forward, her foot immediately came into contact with something soft. She reached down and groped for it. It was a pillow. She lowered to her knees and reached out further, searching around the pillow. Blankets. Threadbare blankets, sitting on top of the concrete floor. _What the hell is this place?_ she wondered.

A whimper.

Grace froze.

She closed her eyes and put all of her effort into her ears. There. She zeroed in on it. Breathing. Several individuals were breathing. Quietly, in short bursts. Terrified bursts. Grace swallowed thickly. There were people in this room. Frightened people. The chill in the room seemed to increase tenfold and suddenly a band of steel cinched tightly around her chest. In a flash, Grace knew where she was.

For the first time in recent memory, Cherry had been wrong. Grace cursed the fact that she'd thrown both mics into the lab. She needed one now. She needed backup. She needed victim evac.

"Hello?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Another whimper.

"It's okay, I'm here to help. Please. Answer m--," Blinding pain. Light exploded behind her eyes as something struck the back of her head. And then all went dark.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The commotion faded with a bit of distance.

Cherry ran down the hall with Jane hot on her heels. He yanked his little tool pouch from his pocket as they approached Royko's office. Just in case, Cherry tried the knob. Locked. Like Royko would risk it, even for a few minutes.

"There's not much time," Cherry whispered.

Jane quickly sized up the lock and pulled two inserts from his pouch. The lock looked pretty standard. He eased them in at the two locking points and probed until he felt the telltale give as the mechanism unbolted. The knob turned in his hand and he shoved the door open.

They both jumped inside.

"You're a genius," Cherry said.

"That's why you love me," Jane responded, shutting the door behind him.

Cherry, already at Royko's desk, gasped softly. She looked up from the paperwork she was already shuffling through. He _had_ to go and say that now. But he wasn't looking at her, quickly moving to a filing cabinet next to the door and opening the top drawer. "Any idea what we're looking for?" he whispered, skimming the file tabs.

"No clue," she whispered back, seeing nothing of interest on top of his desk and quickly moving to the drawers. The first drawer held a stapler, rubber bands, a dozen spare pens and Colt .45 hidden at the back.

"We have a very pretty revolver here." She held it up. "Should we take it?"

"What for?" He didn't look up.

"I dunno. Piss him off?"

Jane chuckled and moved to the next drawer. "Leave it. Keep looking."

Cherry tossed it back in and slammed the drawer. The next one held a stack of blank copy paper. Nothing else. Shit.

The final drawer was filled with personnel files. Cherry quickly scanned the names. The girls were all there, as were the bouncers. "I have employee files here," she said.

He paused, thinking quickly. "Take the men's."

Appreciating that time was in short supply, Cherry pulled them without asking why.

As Jane yanked open the last file drawer, he was greeted with several cryptic tabs. "Crate shipments. Merchandise info. Client postal addresses. Pre-approved highway routes."

Cherry looked up from the desk as he read. "Grab them all. He's either moving meth or girls."

Jane turned to her. "You know they can get all this stuff in the raid."

Cherry snorted. "Unless Royko barricades himself in long enough to torch it."

Jane stuff the files into his vest. "Point taken."

Cherry hurried over to him and handed him the employee files as well. "Let's get the hell out of here. Grace should be done and back with Juarez by now. Stay with me for another 10 minutes, then go find Wayne."

Jane pushed the lock in from the inside as they exited the office, closing the door softly behind them.

"Shit!" Cherry whispered.

Voices were coming down the hall. Royko and Mark were talking heatedly about Johnny's little stunt.

"Here," Jane whispered, pulling Cherry's arm further down the hall to another door. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Thank Christ. And just an empty office. He and Cherry slipped in and closed it, leaving an inch open so Jane could watch their approach. Royko was furious.

"I want her out on her ass in three minutes, Mark. Empty her locker and throw that bitch out. Telling her boyfriend that I'd leave _my_ wife? Fucking ridiculous. Toss her. Now!"

"Got it, boss." Mark grunted and turned back, leaving Royko alone in front of his door. He fished his keys out, muttering under his breath. He unlocked his door and disappeared inside. Jane sighed in relief.

"Are we in the clear?" Cherry whispered at his side.

He nodded, turning back to her. "We're clear."

Cherry gave a shaky, relieved breath. Jane smiled and pulled her close, her underwear and his adrenaline working heavily on him.

"You got Kylie in so much trouble," he whispered playfully, his hands coasting over her bare waist.

Cherry shrugged and chuckled. "No one spies on me and Gray and gets away with it."

Jane dipped his head and kissed her neck, the same spot he'd kissed during her dance. "Ah, yes. The bathroom. Tell me," He pulled back. "How does she feel about having Rigsby's baby?"

Cherry gasped against his curls, turning her head further into him and kissing his head as his lips moved lazily to her shoulder. "Bad man. Reading minds without permission again." She tilted his head and kissed his cheek. He chuckled against her.

"Another reason why you love me."

There it was again. Why did he keep _saying _that? Cherry chose her tried-and-true tactic. "Do not."

Another chuckle. "Do too."

"Do not."

He raised his head and moved further into her space, pressing her up against the wall. "Do. Too."

"You know, you have a horrible sense of timing. We need to get back out there and find Grace. Quit projecting your love for me and let's get out of here."

He grabbed her hand and checked the hallway again before yanking her out. "Projecting?" he hissed as they slowly came out into the main area. "I don't love _you_, missy. You love _me_."

"Please. You _so _love me." Cherry waved her hand nonchalantly.

"Do not!"

"Do too."

"Do not."

Jane pushed her up against the wall, just where they'd been during all the noise. He was about to give her another piece of his mind and screw it if they threw him out, but Juarez appeared at their side.

"Cher? We might have a problem." He gazed nervously around them before leaning into her ear. "Gray hasn't come back yet."

Cherry's eyes went round and black. She looked from Jane to Juarez. "What do you mean she isn't back yet? She's had plenty of time!"

Juarez nodded, looking every bit as fearful as Cherry. "I know, boss. I came back from the men's room after five minutes, but she wasn't here. I've watched the hall the whole time. She hasn't come through."

"Then she's still down there," Jane whispered. His chest pulled tightly. That was definitely not good.

Cherry pushed herself against the wall, supporting herself. She inhaled sharply and looked back at Juarez. "You go ahead and get out of here. If they see you, they'll just remember that Gray is supposed to be with you. Patrick and I will figure this out."

Juarez shook his head hard, but Cherry grabbed his arm. "Ignacio, please. Go. You can't help her. We'll find her. Go now."

His head dropped and he nodded. "All right, boss. Call when you do." Cherry nodded and let him go. He disappeared into the throng of men. Cherry looked up at Jane again. "What the hell do we do?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby sat in the van, reeling at what just happened. An altercation broke out that he'd had no knowledge about. Grace had disappeared down one hall, which was expected. Cherry and Jane had disappeared down another, which was not. He watched in shock as they ransacked his office looking for God knew what. Royko almost caught them. Jesus-fucking-Christ. Lisbon was going to kill them both.

Then Grace.

He'd watched with his heart in his throat as she'd gotten into the elevator and entered the lab alone. He'd watched her panic at it being empty, but she regrouped and went in. She came back in holding several small packages. He moaned when he realized that she'd taken the drugs. _Oh, baby, what the hell are you doing? _he cried out to her silently. Suddenly she dropped to the ground near the camera, her eyes darting wildly at the lit buttons on the consol. She'd jabbed the first basement button and leapt out with terror in her eyes. Rigsby was lost until the elevator closed, cutting off his view of her cowering in the booze cage and lifting up to the main floor, where another person got on.

Eddie.

He pushed the button for the first basement.

Rigsby swore loudly. Darling was every bit as terrified as they watched the scene unfold before them. "Should we go in, Rigsby?"

"Hold on," Rigsby held out his hand. Maybe Grace could hide. She must have heard the elevator ding as it settled at her level. The door opened the Eddie stepped out. No sign of Grace in the immediate entryway. Rigsby exhaled in relief. But his fear quickly built again as Eddie whipped his head to the back of the cage, listening intently. Slowly, Eddie reached over and picked up a bottle from a shelf. Just as slowly, he started to skulk towards the back of the cage, bottle held by the neck, ready to swing. Both agents watched with mounting horror until the elevator doors suddenly closed. Someone else had called it. They'd lost visual.

Rigsby jumped up and nearly tore the van door off its hinges. Running at full speed down the street toward the Pussycat, he shouted back. "Call backup _now_, Darling! _We're going in_!"


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35- Dark Places, Beige Secrets**

Grace woke up in the dark. Her head radiated pain. It hurt to even blink. Her face was pressed into a cold, metallic surface that she couldn't see, only wince against. The angry ratcheting of gears and the sensation of acceleration vibrated under her body. She was moving.

Voices nearby.

Grace froze and closed her eyes again.

They were hushed and anxious, but loud enough that she could hear them over the engine. Assuming all of them were talking, Grace guessed there were six women.

"Where are they taking us now?"

"Shut up! You'll only get us in trouble again."

"What about her? Is she with them?"

"Why the fuck would they hit her and throw her in with us if she's with them?"

"Maybe she's a cop. She said she was there to help us."

"A cop in Fuck Me boots and a paper suit?"

"Not anymore. They'll either keep her with us or kill her."

"Who gives a fuck? Look, I say when they open the door, we rush them. They can't take all of us."

"Seven of us, including her. Fifteen bullets in each of their guns. Like hell they can't take all of us."

"You're right. Better to freeze to death in a storeroom waiting to be sold on fucking eBay."

Grace listened intently as the voices drifted back and forth in the pitch, echoing confines of what she assumed was the back of a movers' truck. She lifted her head slowly, testing her pain threshold as she lifted into a sitting position. It was bad, but not horrible. One hand slid instinctively to her stomach. Her paper suit crinkled softly under her touch and over her baby. She sucked in a breath. Everything else hurt, but her womb felt fine. Thank God. She rubbed her neck gingerly and decided to speak.

"Where am I?" she asked the blackness.

The voices instantly quieted.

"A truck," one of the voices answered.

"Why? What happened to me?" Grace kept her voice small and frightened.

"Don't know. We never know. They move us around a lot. Who are you?" Another voice. More assured than the others.

She shelved her identity for the time being. "I'm Marie. I work at the Pussycat. I went to get a bottle of gin for the bartender, but I heard a noise behind the cage. Next thing I know I'm waking up here in the dark."

"Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but that gin has gotten you into one serious pickle, Marie."

"Why? What's happening? Who are you?" Grace had no problem sounding afraid.

"They tell us we're no one now. Just whores." A tiny voice. Scared to death.

The strong voice. "We were all jumped. They sell us off one at a time. We don't know who they are. Girls come and go. Some are killed. For getting too lippy, they said."

Grace tried to stay calm as her gut raised up in fear. "What will they do with us when we stop?"

"Well, since we're all together, probably just leave us somewhere new. Don't know about you, though. They don't like girls who stir up shit."

Grace pressed her hand to her stomach again. Fear was threatening to overwhelm her, so she reached for Wayne the only way she could. His baby. Under her fingers, it was nestled in her womb. She willed her imaginary children back. The little version of him. The little, dark version of Cherry. She focused on them, watching their smiles. Hearing their laughter. She instantly felt calm. Just like the cameras at the Pussycat, she felt him with her, a tiny presence that gave her strength.

She opened her eyes.

Time to plan.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The entire CBI building was one pissed off hornets' nest. Drone agents swarmed in every direction as evidence and suspects from the Pink Pussycat were dragged into their lair. Boxes of files torn from Royko's office were brought in and poured over carefully. Strippers were swathed in blankets and hauled into interrogation rooms for questioning. Bouncers were cuffed and thrown into similar interrogation rooms, minus the blankets and the gentler handling. Royko had been found burning papers in his office when Darling finally arrested him. He was being guarded in a special area of the building, away from the others.

Away from Rigsby.

Lisbon had insisted he be removed from all suspect questioning. After he'd barged into the Pussycat roaring "CBI!" at the top of his lungs, he'd made a B-line for the service elevators and threw himself into it. When he got to the first basement, all he had found was temporary bedding for six people. And several packets of meth next to a nurse's cap.

The gentle man they knew as Wayne Rigsby vacated. A feral animal took his place.

One of the agents found him beating Eddie in one of the storerooms before Eddie could make an escape. If they hadn't pulled him off, Eddie'd be in the morgue instead of the hospital. As it stood, Eddie was conscious, but not looking so hot. Lisbon demanded Rigsby's weapon, but not his badge. He was still a cop, just not a reliable one. For that reason, she also took his keys. He was office-bound until further notice. And now he was currently tearing one of the empty interrogation rooms apart, destroying chairs and tables and screaming in despair. Both Cho and Lisbon had tried to speak to him, to reach into his rage and pull their colleague out, but he only screamed louder.

"FUCKING FIND GRACE! GET OUT OF HERE AND FIND _HER_!"

They closed the door seconds before a chair smashed into it. Jane and Cherry watched in horror from the two-way mirror. In the club, both of them had stood by in utter befuddlement as Rigsby stormed the building single-handedly and ran for Grace. His screams about the CBI sent clients, bouncers and strippers scattering in all directions, even those with nothing to hide. Rigsby was just that frightening as he tore his way through to the back area. Not that Jane or Cherry had much time to process it, because thirty seconds later the place was flooded with agents and local cops, rounding up employees and scooping up evidence. They merely looked at each other.

"What about Gray?" Cherry's voice had held an edge of panic.

Now that their little charade was over with, Jane shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing her arms reassuringly through the fabric. "Can you think of anyone who'll find her faster than Rigsby?" he tried to smile.

Cherry didn't return it. Jane pulled her into his arms and led her out of the club. "Come on. They'll take everyone to the CBI. If she's not here, Royko knows where she is. We'll get it out of him there."

Cherry turned to him, her eyes dead. "If they've hurt her, I'll kill him myself."

Jane shuddered at such a sad statement coming from such a lively soul. She was better than that. He nipped it in the bud by jerking her—not gently—against him. He gripped her by the back of her neck and trapped her chin in his hand. "Don't get lazy on me now, Cherry."

She blinked at him.

He nodded and tightened his hold. In another circumstance, he might have worried he was hurting her. "We fight first. We possibly grieve later. Fight. First. Got it?"

Her eyes emptied out. The vengeful stubbornness left her and shaky acceptance slipped in. "Fight first," she echoed. He felt her sag gently against him. He nudged her towards his car.

Now, they stood on the other side of the glass and watched their friend tear himself and the room apart, howling in impotent agony. Cherry wiped a tear from her eye and quietly pulled out her phone.

"Babet? It's Cher. Listen, I need you to bring my girls to Gray's office…Yeah, I know it's late…Listen, this is important, I'll make it up to you…Thanks. And hurry." She flipped her phone closed and slipped it into her pocket.

Jane watched her. "Got a plan?"

Cherry sniffed and wiped her eye again. "I think there are only two people in the world who can reach him now."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Another chair splintered as Rigsby smashed it into the thin drywall. The wood of the legs dug unmercifully into his hands and he was glad. He liked the pain. He pulled the poor chair away from the wall and lifted it above his head to bring it down onto the floor. Better reinforcement behind it. Stronger pain as it connected to the unyielding cement. His nerves meekly informed him that he'd either cracked or broken several bones. He roared out loud and they fell silent. His head shot in every direction. The room was too small. Too hot. He needed to be outside. He needed to be running. Chasing. Somewhere out there was his Grace, in a car, in a plane.

In the ground.

_NO! _

He roared again and slammed his knees to the floor, fisting his broken hands and smashing them into the coarse carpet. She was NOT dead. She was alive. Unhurt. Okay. Just waiting for them to find her. They would NOT kill her. They wouldn't dare. They would _not_ put a gun to that beautiful hair and pull the trigger. They would _not _take a knife and slice that soft, pale throat. They would _not_ touch her in any way. She was like Snow White, just waiting in suspended animation, totally unharmed, until he could find her and save her.

_She's dead. She was snooping where she shouldn't and Eddie killed her. Or he gave her to those who will. A cop or a drug thief, they'd kill either one. She's both. But they _might_ keep her alive for awhile. Just until they've had their fun. She's so pretty. So pretty. But after? Dead dead dead dead d—_

"SHUT UUUUUP!" he screamed at the voice in his head.

"Wayne?"

His head shot up and he looked towards the door. He moaned with sadness and immediately strangled the animal he'd let loose hours ago. SoSo and Lila were standing in the frame. Alone. Frightened. They were looking at him like he was crazy. He _was _crazy. Their innocent eyes tethered him back to reality once more and suddenly his surroundings rushed back into his consciousness. The room was a tornado site. His hands were shrieking in agony. His face was wet with hot tears. His chest was a sucking wound, pulling blood into his lungs instead of air. Or so it felt like every time he breathed. But breathe he did. He had to. The girls were here, looking at him.

"SoSo," he gasped through the blood. Another breath. "Little Lila."

More air.

SoSo took a hesitant step towards her beloved giant. "Mommy said Gray is gone. But that she'll be back soon. Is that why you're sad?"

He gave her a pathetic smile. "Yes, fairy. That's why I'm sad."

Both she and her sister stepped carefully into the room and came towards him. He ached to watch them sidestep the splinters and jagged edges of furniture. Still on his knees, he fell back onto his heels. He let slip a choked groan as the both came on either side of him and hugged him carefully.

His fairy. His little Grace.

He dropped his head and exhaled unevenly. More air.

He put an arm around each girl and pulled them into his lap, one sitting on each thigh. They curled trustingly into his shirt and perched on his legs, their arms around his neck. He willed himself to stop shaking. He focused on the two girls who reigned him back into sanity. He rubbed their backs soothingly with his broken fingers and placed a small kiss on each of their foreheads.

Lila looked up at him. His little Grace. His heart ripped anew. "Don't be sad. Mommy said you're getting married, so you'll be Uncle Wayne soon. Won't that make you happy?" Copper eyes gazed at him with the pure sweetness of children's rationality. He barked a hoarse laugh and sniffed softly.

"Yes, baby. That will make me so happy." He tortured himself with the comfort of running his hands through her hair. Her fiery hair. Grace's hair.

SoSo grinned up at him. Her blue eyes—_his_ eyes—alight with glee. "Will you and Gray come live with us? The House is too big. It needs more people in it." More rationality. Big houses need big families. He chuckled through his tears. He closed his eyes with pained acceptance as his fairy reached up and wiped his tears with her tiny fingers.

"Maybe, fairy. We'd have to talk to Cherry."

Lila bounced happily. "And Patrick too! A magician and a giant!" She flashed her baby teeth at him excitedly. Rigsby chuckled with more sincerity. All of them in a house together, living as a family. Grace as his wife. Jane and Cherry as in-laws. These girls as his nieces. It all seemed so ridiculously plausible.

"We'll see, Lila. We'll see." He dropped his head between them again and just immersed himself in their hug.

SoSo poked at his chin. "You hafta know stuff about Gray before you get married, y'know. Secret stuff."

He dipped his head so that his chin bumped her finger back. "Like what?"

Lila giggled. "She hates ranch dressing."

Rigsby snorted and swallowed thickly. "Okay."

"She doesn't like it when chocolate boxes have pictures of the insides. She says it's cheating." SoSo nodded with total seriousness.

Lila held up two fingers, pressing on one as she made her next point. "She thinks dogs should be as tall as your knees. Otherwise they're just needy cats."

Rigsby choked on a chuckle. "No chocolate with pictures. No little dogs."

"She likes country music. She doesn't tell anyone because she says people from California don't understand," said SoSo.

Lila's third finger lifted. "She helps us with our homework. She draws really good circles and races us with math problems."

Rigsby couldn't help nuzzling his nose against her forehead, seeking comfort. "Good at math and circles. Got it."

"She's got a lot of shoes. Like, _a lot_ a lot." SoSo got a nuzzle from him as well as she chirped happily.

The girls continued with their list of Grace's preferences and secrets while Rigsby slowly came back from a very dark place, listening and chuckling about the woman he loved.

Jane and Cherry watched from the other side. Cherry nodded unconsciously. "Good girls," she murmured softly.

Jane pulled her into his side and pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Using toddlers to get me to move in with you? For shame."

Cherry chortled and bumped him away with her hip. "Like _I_ would put up with you in my house. It's bad enough my girls are handing out rooms. What am I? The Drake?"

The door opened beside them, startling them both, as Lisbon popped her head in. "Cho's going to question Royko now. You guys wanna watch?" She looked at Jane. "Or help?"

Jane nodded and they all headed down the hall.

"Have you found anything out?" Cherry asked Lisbon.

"Tons," she nodded. "The packets Grace left behind in the basement are meth, so we got them there. We also have footage of several people clearing out the lab once the raid started, so they have no deniability of its origins. Thanks to the files you stole, we're figuring out how and where they were moving the girls. We also have several bouncers who look good for the wet work." She paused and gave Cherry a pained look. "Sorry."

Cherry jutted her chin and smiled stiffly. "No time to pull punches, Teresa. Hit me."

Lisbon nodded, respecting a fellow straight shooter, and continued. "Eddie's still in the hospital. I'm thinking that if Royko proves difficult, we'll go talk to him. We have him on tape assaulting an agent. He'll talk if he knows what's good for him. We'll find Grace, don't you worry."

Lisbon stopped again as Cherry's hand softly took her arm.

"Teresa," she whispered softly. "When you find Gray, tell the EMT that she's pregnant. Please."

Lisbon's eyes widened with surprise and intense fear. Cherry smiled ruefully as she watched every curse imaginable run through them.

_. _

Pregnant. Her missing agent. _Both_ her agents. Jane and Cherry watched the chain of thoughts fall like dominoes in her eyes. Grace is pregnant with Rigsby's child. He was already becoming unglued as every Graceless second ticked by. These people were pimps and killers. Rigsby was a father. His lover and child may already be dead.

Cherry nodded. "He doesn't know."

Lisbon fisted her hands in terrified rage. She hated this information. She didn't need it now. She was looking for her agent, not a mother. Not another agent's baby. It clouded her already strained judgment with more unwanted concern. Grace. Her responsibility. If this thing went south and they found her murdered, the autopsy would uncover her little secret.

And she would lose two agents that day.

Rigsby would not survive the loss of Grace and their baby. He would unhinge completely. Their unit would destruct. She shook her head hard. Not now. There was no time. She looked at Cherry and nodded. "I'll make sure they know."

She gestured down the hall. "Royko. He knows where she is."

They proceeded to the interrogation room.


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36- Jane Says Relax**

Cherry, Lisbon and Jane stepped into the observation room just in time to see Royko cuffed to the chair by an agent. He made sure they were secure before leaving the room. Cho was nowhere to be seen. That was normal. The two from the team knew his tactics well enough to know that, if they weren't pressed for time, Cho would sometimes make suspects wait for hours. Especially suspects like this one. Powerful men who didn't like to be kept waiting. It made them edgy. Made them arrogant, made them act entitled. Made them say stupid things out of pride. Cho knew the best way to break such men was to simply walk across the street and order the most fastidious coffee Starbucks made before sitting down in their insanely comfy chairs and drinking it slowly. Very slowly. Not today though. They couldn't afford all of the theatrics. Grace sure as hell couldn't afford them. So, they only had to wait five minutes before Cho walked crisply into the room and shut the door behind him. He sat down and gazed levelly at his prey.

Curtain up.

"We'll get right to the point here, Mr. Royko. You're a bad man who's done a lot of bad things and if you don't tell me where you've taken those girls, this is going to get much uglier than it has to."

Royko returned his gaze coolly. "I'm afraid my lawyer isn't present. I'll not speak until he is."

"He's on his way. In the meantime, you can shave some serious time off your sentence by telling me where to find them before something unfortunate happens." Cho could teach foxtrot classes, they way he kept up with quick steps.

Royko smiled serenely. Nothing.

Cho matched his stony expression beautifully. "See, we have a problem. You think you've netted a bunch of unmissed, unwanted women for your little slave auction, but in fact you accidentally captured an agent. One of ours is in that group of women you just moved and I can assure you that if she turns up dead, you'll be very dismayed that California practices the death penalty."

A quick one, two. Royko definitely felt them. His eyes lost their calm squint and rounded a bit in surprise. Cho's news certainly put a hitch in his giddyup. But his mouth remained shut. No panicky questions or confessions of ignorance. This man was too cautious. Silence. Lawyer. _Fuck. _

Lisbon pulled an infuriated breath as she watched him. As good as Cho was, this man would stall all night and not even check his watch. Those women were gone and the best solution for him was that they stay gone. Poof. What women? The CBI is mistaken, there were never any women down there. Lisbon's teeth gnashed together.

Cherry ground hers together as well. Her sister was with those girls, goddammit. This bastard was going to talk. She'd strangle the vehicle description, plate numbers and destination out of him herself, if she had to. But before she indulged her fantasy too much, she moved her thoughts away from brawn and back to her strength. Brains.

"Get his wife and kids down here." Her tone dumped gallons of ice water into the room.

Lisbon turned to her. "Why?"

Jane cocked his head. "She's right. Bring them to this room and have Cho throw some ugly curve balls. Drugs, murder, rape, slave rings, the works."

"What if the wife already knows? She could be in on this," said Lisbon.

Jane and Cherry gave identical shakes of their heads.

"No way his wife knows," said Cherry. "She's a good, god-fearing sweetheart. Thinks her husband is a good man. Once she's heard Cho's accusations, let Royko know that she's here. Watching him. Don't let her talk to him. Let him sweat."

Jane nodded, his eyes never leaving Royko. "I concur."

Lisbon regarded them both. Earnest, angelic-looking snake charmers. She wondered briefly if she should be more mindful of blonde people in the future. Maybe they _all_ had powers. She went for the door. "I'll have them here in twenty minutes."

Once Lisbon was out, Cherry turned to Jane.

"And _you_. Hypnotize that bastard."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

They drove for hours. Or so it felt like.

Grace had moved out of the middle of the truck and off to the side, seeking the security of a wall. The other women were huddled along the perimeter as well. The unforgiving metallic cube gave no comfort to their limbs or warmth to their bodies. Quite the opposite. The chilly November air sucked their body heat into the walls and returned none of it. Dressed in nothing but a sex suit and paper, Grace shivered violently. To distract herself, she asked questions. She was still a cop, freezing in a sex suit or no.

"How many times have they moved you before?"

One of the more timid voices. "About four. I think. What month is it?"

Grace shivered doubly at her answer. "November."

"November," the voice trembled sadly. "My birthday's in November."

Grace pressed along. "How long are the trips, usually?"

A stronger voice. "Why does it matter?"

"We _were_ in downtown Sacramento. I want to know how far we're being moved," Grace snapped impatiently.

A calmer, softer voice. "They usually last several hours."

Grace processed this. That meant they probably didn't ever leave California. She had mixed feelings about this. Hours in a truck gave her more time to formulate a plan, but meant the CBI had less chance of finding them as the search radius became larger. She cursed the search radius, always growing exponentially with every passing minute. _Dammit!_

"How do they unload us? How many are on the other side? Are their guns drawn when they open the doors?"

"There are two guys in the front of the truck. They'll open the doors, but they won't have their guns out. But they're big. Real big."

Grace snorted quietly. No matter who was sitting in the front of that truck, she seriously doubted they were any bigger or stronger than the man who'd hit her in the past. Or the man who loved her in the present. She felt no wussiness at the thought of big men.

"Will they restrain us? Cover our heads? Anything?" she asked the darkness.

"No, just push us out." The calm voice again.

"How high are the tires on this van? Anyone notice?" she asked.

Tiny, frightened voice. "Pretty high. We have to step up, or they lift us."

Grace nodded to herself. Two men. Holstered weapons. No hoods or handcuffs. Seven women. Not stopping for hours. Less chance of being found with each turn of the tires. She slowly got to her knees and crawled across the length of the floor. Her head bumped the opposite side after a few seconds. She laid flat, stretching her hands and feet. They didn't reach the other side. Ten feet across, maybe? She worked the math in her head.

She sat up and took a deep breath. The plan was clear.

"Here's what we do, ladies."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Linda Royko arrived with her two children before his lawyer. She was a sweet, gentle-looking woman. Very respectful to the agents that brought her in. Very circumspect as she asked mild questions as to why her husband was being held. Lisbon hated to admit it, but her dynamic duo was right once again. This woman clearly had no idea what her bastard of a husband really did for a living.

Perfect.

Lisbon used calm, reassuring words as she led them to the observation room that showed her husband on the other side. Cherry had left to check on Rigsby and her girls, and Jane had joined Cho across from Royko. The two boys peeked into the mirror to watch their father with the same worried curiosity as they would watch screaming monkeys in a primate house.

"Daddy's cuffed to a chair, mommy." The smaller one looked at Linda with frightened, saucer eyes.

Linda turned to Lisbon. "What are they doing with him? Where's our lawyer, Agent Lisbon?"

"On his way, we called him 30 minutes ago," Lisbon assured her calmly. The speakers had been turned off, none of them could hear the conversation at the table. Lisbon gave a slight tap against the window. Only a few people would have noticed Jane's slight nod. Royko's family was here.

It was time.

Jane smiled gently at their suspect and spoke in his most lulling tone. "Mr. Royko, the other agents asked me to inform you that your lawyer will be here very shortly. All you need to do is relax. Think of your family, the warmth of your home, think about how wonderful it will be to get home, forget about all of this. Just relax. Like sleeping deeply on your own bed. Warm…safe…relax…"

Royko's eyes never left Jane's. The soothing, soft comfort of his voice worked on Royko like a fine brandy. Intoxicating him. His head began to droop. His eyes flickered. Jane was pleasantly surprised. He'd been easier to subdue than he'd thought.

"Mr. Royko, I want you to stay in this warm, happy place, then tell me in soft, slow words about the women in the basement. All nice and warm in their beds down there. They were sleeping. But not anymore. Where are they now?"

Royko's eyes fluttered briefly. "Gone," he muttered. "Taken away."

"Yes, I know," Jane purred softly. "You sent them away. They needed to be sent away. It was best. There was trouble. But there's no trouble now, just warmth. Just going home soon. There's no reason not to tell me now. Where have they gone?"

"Hmmm," Royko murmured softly. "Mark. Mark has them."

Under the table, Jane lowered his hand and wiggled his fingers at Lisbon. She turned and flipped the speakers on so that the Royko family could listen.

"Where is Mark taking them, Mr. Royko?"

"Placerville. I…yes…they're driving to Placerville."

"Aaaaah," Jane exhaled softly. "Where in Placerville? Is someone waiting for them? Someone else who will look after them?"

"My warehouse…it's all set up…others before them…all ready."

Lisbon excused herself quietly and left the observation room. She tore down the hallway and found the group of agents pouring over the files taken in the raid and stolen by Jane and Cherry.

"Real estate registers," she gasped as she ran up. "Find his real estate listings for a warehouse in Placerville. Get agents on the road now. Radio the address to them when you get it. Nownow_now_!"

A hand on her shoulder startled her. She whirled and found herself face to face with Cherry. "Gray?" she asked.

Lisbon nodded. "Jane's working him now. We got a location. Sort of. You're welcome to go with them."

Cherry slumped and dropped her head. "Oh, thank God. Yes, yes I want to go. Rigsby too. Can I leave the girls here with someone?"

Lisbon nodded again, taking her hand and leading her back to the interrogation room. "Cho can stay here with them."

The entered the observation room again. Jane was on a roll. The Royko family was watching in horror. Linda was sniffing quietly, dabbing her eyes occasionally with a tissue. Apparently Jane hadn't been pulling any punches either.

"We're almost done here, sir. You've been so helpful, I appreciate that. I just have one more question. About Marie. She was snooping downstairs, wasn't she? Taking things and looking where she shouldn't. Eddie helped out with that. But I need to know what will happen to Marie."

Royko's dreamy expression hardened suddenly. "Eddie caught that whore stealing…_my _product…she stole from downstairs. Stupid bitch. Eddie took care of her. Gave her to Mark to load up with the others. Mark, he'll deal with her once they arrive. No one…no one steals from me."

"Of course not," said Jane. "What will Mark do?"

"Shoot her. Bury her."

Cherry gasped harshly. Almost as loudly as Linda.

Jane sat up straight, glanced at Cho, and brought his voice back to its normal pitch. "Well, Mr. Royko, you've been extremely helpful. When I touch your hand, you'll wake up and remember everything we've talked about. You'll also know that your wife and children have watched this entire conversation from the other room. Three, two, one," Jane tapped his hand.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lisbon drove. She insisted. The lights and siren on the SUV screeched and whirled, telling everyone in front of them to move the hell out of the way or get crushed. Rigsby sat in the backseat with Cherry. She'd found him sitting quietly with her children, still talking in hushed voices about Grace and their future together as a big family. She knelt down with them and stroked Lila's hair softly.

"You need to fix your hands, Wayne," she urged him. "You want me to call an ambulance? They can fix you up here. You don't have to go to the hospital."

He shook his head. "No. I'm all right. I'll go later. I just…" He looked up at her with watering eyes. "I just need to stay here for awhile."

Cherry nodded. His injuries weren't that serious. If he could withstand the pain, she wouldn't pressure him.

She left them again.

Once she'd spoken to Lisbon and heard the rest of Royko's confession, she came back to him as calmly as she could. "Girls? Wayne and I need to leave for a little while. But Kimball will look after you, okay? Maybe he can call Anna Angel and you guys can get a pizza together. Sound good?"

The girls clutched Wayne and huddled against him, not wanting to leave him. He smiled brokenly at their loyalty. He nudged them up gently. "Come on, sweeties. I need to go with your mom." He lifted up to stand on his knees. "Kisses first?"

SoSo and Lila leaned into his cheeks and gave them identical pecks. His smile grew fractionally and he hugged them. "Thank you, babies."

He and the others left Cho behind and hurried towards the SUV. Placerville was 45 minutes away. Less, if they floored it. Cherry followed Rigsby into the backseat and sat close to him the whole way, her hand laid gently over his.

Lisbon picked up her phone. "What the hell, people? Where is this warehouse we're heading for? I have 13 units on their way and we need a 20."

She was silent for a moment. "What are you talking about? There has to be a listing. Check again and get back to me! He said he owned one, so _fucking find it_!"

She slapped her phone shut and swore loudly.

"No records of a warehouse?" Jane asked.

She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. We'll jimmy every locked door in Placerville if we have to."

Her phone went off and she answered it before the first ring finished. "What?"

She listened. Jane watched her impatience melt into worry. "Where?...You're sure?...Yeah, we're on our way."

"What is it? Did they find his warehouse?" Rigsby asked gruffly.

Lisbon slapped her phone shut, slamming the accelerator to the floor and flying between cars with alarming speed. "They may not have to," she answered him, swerving passed an 18-wheeler. "There's been an accident on the highway between here and Placerville." She glanced in the rearview mirror at the sister and boyfriend.

"A large moving truck has tipped over."


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37- The Tipping Point**

Somewhere deep inside, behind the wall of terror, Grace was ecstatic that the truck had overturned so easily.

They had been moving at 65 miles an hour. The tires were tall. The truck was ten feet across. And seven women ran and threw their weight against the sides, in sync and with more desperation with each run. The math told her that they equaled almost 900 lbs. of force. It should work.

It did work.

It had taken only five charges before they felt the back tires begin to fishtail. They heard screams from the cab to knock it off, sit the fuck down. It only made them throw themselves harder against the walls.

"Harder!" Grace screamed over the faint voices of the men in front. "It's working!"

She turned on her heel, whirling in the darkness and accelerating as much as she could in the cramped space before throwing her shoulder into the wall. She grunted in pain as she flipped and charged again. She could feel the others on each side of her. They kept as evenly spread as possible in the blackness. Each woman moaned and gasped as the impact hurt their arms and shoulders. Fuck it. Worse was waiting for them wherever they stopped. At least this pain was their choice. Their bid for freedom. They moved as one force as they turned again and rushed the opposite side.

Then, almost in slow motion, their centers of gravity shifted. The floor went from flat, to angled, to no longer the floor at all. It flew up to meet them as it became a new wall. As the truck tipped at a tremendous speed, the women's happiness could only be voiced with terror. They screamed as they were thrown violently against sides. A horrible metallic screech filled the air as the truck slid along the asphalt. It felt like forever, but almost immediately the truck collided with something hard, the impact crumpling the women into a heap. The truck made one more shriek as it battered into a metal divide. Then silence.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lisbon charged through the last two miles of backed-up traffic like a maniac. With an accident ahead of them, cars were bumper to bumper with barely two feet between them on all sides. Somehow, Lisbon managed to squeeze an SUV through with no trouble. Drivers parted a way through. She took it, honking and with sirens blazing the entire way.

No one spoke.

Cherry moved her hand from Rigsby's fingers to his upper arm and squeezed. She needed reassurance, but kept enough of her sanity to remember his broken bones. Rigsby didn't notice. His eyes were glued to the windshield, his entire body rigid and coiled like a spring, ready to explode out of the backseat and into the road the minute Lisbon slowed down. Even Jane felt his body reacting in fear. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His legs itched to run. His hand was pressed against the handle, ready to jump right along with Rigsby, once they had something to jump towards.

"Goddammit!" Lisbon swore loudly and laid into the horn as traffic became too thick to part. The mass of cars in front of them inched to the left and right, trying to move, but they were stuck in a river of unyielding metal. The SUV ground to a halt.

"We're too close now," she said. "We can't get through."

"Like hell," Cherry's words were barely out of her mouth before she opened her door and leapt from the car, running between the chains of unmoving vehicles. Rigsby was right behind her, shoving his door open and taking off on the opposite side, running full speed after Cherry.

Jane and Lisbon glanced at each other before yanking the handles and joining their people. As Lisbon took off down the same path as Cherry, Jane climbed up onto the roof of their car and scanned the highway before him. The higher vantage showed his three people flying cleanly through the throngs. Cherry had a considerable lead. Her strong legs arced over the pavement, her arms bent and scissoring quickly at her sides. Rigsby was stronger, but his heavier frame kept him from outstripping the dancer. He was a good twenty feet behind, but keeping a mean pace as he ran flat out. Lisbon alone kept a non-frantic speed, running but not sprinting. A family member and an agent in love were in front of her. There was no need to race them to Grace. They'd know what to do when they got there. Jane looked passed them all to the long, snaking road ahead.

There.

About a quarter of a mile ahead. He squinted. A white truck lay on its side, its tires sticking out, like a turtle that had fallen and couldn't right itself. In the early morning darkness, he scanned as best he could for smoke. He saw nothing. Thank Christ.

Cherry was already halfway there. Jane turned to search the highway behind him. No other sirens yet. No ambulances. No police. It was just them. Jane jumped off the car and jogged to the trunk, opening up the back and grabbing the First Aid kit. Clutching it firmly under his arm, he loped after his team.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_So close so close so close so close_

"_Graaaaay!_" Cherry screamed as loud as her rasping lungs would allow. The truck was only 50 feet away. Her speed exploded and she nearly threw herself into the backdoor, wrenching at the locked doors as they rested on their sides.

"GRAY, ANSWER ME!" She broke her nails off as she clawed against the handles like an animal. She could hear faint moaning from inside. She sobbed in fury as she ran to the front cab. Without thinking, she climbed up the truck's exposed underbelly, using the tires and axle, before yanking the passenger door open. She looked down into the cab. Two men were crushed together against the driver's side door. The driver she didn't recognize. The other man, the one closest to her and lying unconscious on the driver, was Mark.

"Fuck you," she uttered as she leapt down on top of him. The soft heel of her running shoe connected with his jaw. Even passed out, he moaned in pain. Cherry tried not to smirk with enraged triumph as she found her footing. She leaned down in the tight space and began ripping at Mark's pockets.

"Key, you bastard. Where's the key?"

He moaned in pain again and was rewarded with a knee slammed into his nose. Cartilage crunched. He convulsed in agony as she continued to search his clothes.

"Cherry!" She looked up at the passenger door and found Rigsby looking down at her with hope and panic.

"I can't open the back!" she said as she flayed open his jacket and checked for inner pockets. "We need the keys!"

"Hold on." He jumped down and hurried around to the front. Cherry saw him standing in front of the heavily cracked windshield. "Cover your eyes!"

Cherry barely had a chance to comply before Rigsby reared back and kicked hard into the glass. It splintered into a classic spider web pattern, tenting heavily under the impact. He kicked one more time before the compromised frame gave out and popped free. Rigsby ripped it away and dove over the steering wheel. He grabbed the driver and, with strength that shocked Cherry, dragged the big man out like he was a rag doll. He laid him out flat before reaching in grabbing Mark.

"Check the ignition, Cher," he ordered as he yanked Mark out onto the pavement next to his friend, taking his one pair of cuffs and slapping one bracelet on each man.

Cherry squatted on the driver door and reached for the ignition, pulling the keys out and tossing them to Rigsby. As she crawled gingerly out of the cab, Rigsby was already sprinting to the back and flipping through the keys. The noise behind the door was getting louder. Stronger. The women were standing up, murmuring softly, tapping the walls hesitantly.

"We're with the police! Just hold on, we're coming!" Rigsby began jamming random keys into the lock, one after the other.

"Wayne?" Soft. Uncertain. Behind the door in front of him.

He nearly fainted with relief. "Grace! Grace, baby, hold on! I'm here!" He flipped the fifth key between his fingers, jammed it in the lock and turned. It fit. It opened. The latch gave under his hands and the door fell to the ground.

It was too low for him to see. He fell to his knees and peered in.

Two legs in a paper suit, wobbling and shaking, stood on the other side. "Gray," Rigsby murmured, reaching out and tugging roughly at the paper.

She collapsed on her knees in front of him. Her hair was disheveled. Blood trickled from her forehead. Her hands were dirty and shaking with cold. With fright. Her eyes held nothing but disbelief and tears. He reached out and cupped her cheek. He didn't blink. He didn't dare. Staring at her was the only way to make sure she didn't disappear. His breath came out in ragged, shallow puffs. "Say something."

Grace uttered a soft, strangled cry before launching herself out of the truck and into her love's arms. Rigsby fell back into a sitting position as he clamped his arms around her shivering body and smothered her face with desperate kisses. Grace whimpered and cried brokenly as she locked her arms around his neck and returned his kisses with the same fervor. She pressed her mouth painfully to his, cutting her lip on his teeth. She almost laughed with insane joy at the feeling. Her cold fingers fanned into his hair and clutched him frantically. She couldn't get close enough. Neither could he. His arms were barely letting her breathe. His hands were gripping her so tightly that he was ripping long tears into the flimsy suit. His broken fingers felt nothing but frenzied pleasure as they passed over her back and hair again and again, confirming she was real and alive and unhurt.

They didn't notice the other women slowly emerging from the truck. They didn't hear the faint echo of sirens slowly creeping towards their position. They didn't see Cherry standing nearby, rubbing her arms and sniffing insanely relieved tears. They didn't see Lisbon standing beside Cherry, watching with infinite compassion and quiet tears of her own. They sure as hell didn't notice Jane as he jogged up and sidestepped them to assist the other women out and away from the truck, offering them words of comfort and sitting them down to clean their wounds.

They saw nothing but each other.

Rigsby cupped her face, whispering between a hundred kisses. "You okay?...talk to me…never…never again…never leave me again…never…babyloveyou…don't ever scare me like that…god, Grace…love you…say something…"

Grace choked on a happy laugh and nodded quickly in his hands. "Never, I promise…won't leave you…love you too…Wayne…love you."

She finally shook herself a little and cupped her hands over his on her cheeks. "Did we get them?"

Rigsby gave her a tear-smudged smile and nodded. "You did so good, baby. We got'em. Jane hypnotized Royko. We were coming to find you," he said.

She kissed his hands under hers. "Us," she murmured softly.

Rigsby nodded, looking over her shoulder to the other girls as Jane gently wiped their cuts and scrapes with alcohol. "Yes, all of you."

Grace gave a short laugh. "No," she clarified. She took his hand from her face and guided it to her belly, pressing his palm flat against it. "You came for _us_."

Rigby's eyes widened, moving between confusion, surprise, shock and amazement inside of two seconds. His hand pressed harder against her, silently asking if she meant what he thought she meant.

"A baby?" he whispered. His eyes were enormous. Disbelieving. "We're having a baby?"

Happy, still-frightened, bright tears fell from her eyes as she dipped her head again. "Yeah."

Rigsby looked like he couldn't choose between happiness from the news or horror from what might have happened. What still might happen. Grace had been hit on the head with a bottle and involved in a nasty crash. His embrace instantly became softer, more encompassing. His hand massaged protectively over her stomach. They needed an ambulance. Now. He pulled her down to sit more completely in his lap, his hands pressing softly against her, warming her up.

He tucked her head into his throat, dipping his chin to kiss her temple. "I almost lost you," he choked against her hair. "My baby. And you're pregnant. Oh God, Grace." His words strangled as he sucked in a breath and shuddered hard against her. "I love you so much. A baby. I can't believe it. Just…I mean…" He couldn't finish. Too many questions plagued him. Too many questions choked him. Still, this was Rigsby. King of the inner monologue.

"It's wonderful. You're having my baby. You're having _our baby_. She's going to look just like you, I know it. She'll be beautiful and strong and brave just like her mother. Jesus, it's…this is unbelievable. Kids! Gray, we're going to have kids!"

She smiled and burrowed into him as he babbled joyfully, stroking her softly all the while. She suddenly caught sight of one of his hands as it roamed over her suit and caught it gently, raising it to her eyes. It was swollen and bloodied, the skin red from its earlier beating.

"Your fingers. They're broken. Jesus, baby, did they do this to you at the club?" Her voice rose in fear at the idea that someone had hurt him so badly during the raid. Rigsby cleared his throat sheepishly.

"No. It was after. I…uh…kinda did it to…myself."

Grace's eyes raised from his hand to his face. In the distance, the sirens were getting closer. She arched her brow.

"You broke your own hand? How?"

He shook his head, taking his hand out of hers and continuing his massage therapy on her. "I'll tell you later. Just…just sit with me. Talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

She gave him a half smile before letting him have his way. They continue to talk in hushed, relieved voices as the people around them stood back to give them privacy.

Still sniffling, Cherry pulled out her phone and called Anna Angel to give her the news. Had it been any other day, Cherry would have been amused by the lack of purring seduction in Anna's voice. She'd never heard it without.

"Oh, thank fuck. Is she okay? What happened? Are they taking her to the hospital? Which one? I can be there in five."

Cherry sniffed and laughed. "No, she's fine. Just cuts and bruises. I need you to stay with Cho and the girls and call Juarez to let him know. I promised him. We can tell the rest of the troupe later. They don't even know what happened, so best not to freak them out."

Anna sighed shakily. "Juarez. You got it. Anything else?"

"Tell Cho. And Anna? Thank you."

"Shut up, Cher. Thank yous are for strangers and Southerners. Love you." She hung up before Cherry could reply.

The ambulances finally inched onto the scene. Grace insisted the other women be given priority. Rigsby insisted harder that she go in the first one. The EMTs were leaning more towards Grace's opinion until Rigsby dropped the word 'pregnant' on them. Suddenly she was hoisted onto a gurney and strapped into the truck. She pointed squarely at Rigsby as they loaded her in. "He's coming," she announced. "He's the father. _And _he was an idiot and smashed up his hands, so he's going my way anyway."

The EMT dutifully made room for him to sit. "Tattletale," Rigsby muttered as he settled in next to her.

"Meathead," she muttered back.

"You guys sound like an old married couple already," Cherry snorted as she jumped into the back and leaned across the small space to hug her sister gently. She smiled and kissed Grace's forehead before pressing it with her own.

"Not even gonna say 'hi' to your sister after getting kidnapped? Jeez, Gray. I know he's cute, but damn, we're supposed to be family." Cherry bumped her forehead playfully while jerking her thumb at Rigsby.

Grace snickered softly and cuffed Cherry's neck. "Gimme a break. I'm not having _your_ kid."

Cherry beamed wide and happy. "Thank God. It's bad enough I had yours. Go on, get out of here. We'll come see you as soon as we can untangle the car. Being the pain in the ass that you are, you've knocked out the highway for a good three hours. Brat."

They scoffed, just being sisters. Each other's best friend. Each other's biggest annoyance. Cherry lifted from Grace and leaned over to Rigsby, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "See you soon. Bro." She winked and hopped out of the back. The doors slammed shut and it began its slow progress into traffic, lights and sirens running.

The other ambulances were now on the scene and the last of the girls were being loaded up. Cherry spotted Lisbon, her conversation divided between her cell phone and an EMT. She scanned the crowd and found Jane, standing quietly off to the side, his hands in his pockets. The predawn light was slowly creeping in. Grey, fuzzy outlines were starting to pop out from the horizon. She hated that she noticed that it fell on his hair, making it look soft and pretty. The man himself had a soft, pretty expression to match. She berated her own mushiness and walked nonchalantly to him to stand at his side.

He didn't turn when he spoke. "Helluva night, wasn't it?"

She stuck out her bottom lip and shrugged. "I've seen more boring, that's for sure."

"You know, I heard one of the EMTs saying that Mark's nose was broken. Any thoughts?"

She shrugged again in innocence. "He took quite a spill on the road here. Makes sense."

He turned ever-so-slightly. "Ah, I see. And the shoe print on his jaw?"

He got her. He loved when he did that. Mischief sparkled in her eyes, then disappeared. "Whiplash."

Jane chuckled heartily and drew Cherry to him, cupping her jaw and forcing her to look at him. "You're evil." His eyes danced with amusement.

Unlike the last time, Cherry gave her response knowingly. "That's why you love me."

Jane's amusement didn't falter, his gaze didn't drop. Her statement hung. Their eyes held. Finally, he lowered his head and kissed her. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue over her lips. She opened them, sighing softly and letting him sip from her before taking her own taste of him. They were tangled in each others' arms before either of them knew what happened. When they finally broke for air, Jane nipped her nose playfully.

"Do not."


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38- The Challenge**

In the end, they all talked.

Mark talked. Eddie talked. Even the stony Royko talked. They all had various motivations, the main one being that the CBI had enough evidence to nail them to the wall several times over. Marked talked for a reduced sentence. Eddie—only aware of the drug connection and not the slave ring—talked out of indignation. He'd only hit Grace because he saw someone on the monitors taking the meth. He hadn't known it was Marie and he hadn't known about the women behind the booze cage until that night. Meth. Only. He was charged accordingly. Royko talked out of defeated embarrassment and a vain need to slant the story in his favor. The presence of his family in the observation room brought of flood of information out of him. _It's wasn't what the CBI thought it was. They're prostitutes, not slaves. They were never kidnapped. That was bullshit. Anyone who said different was a liar._

However, he had no immediate response to the meth production charges. The packets Grace had stolen and were then recovered by the agents, the lab, the video footage of them clearing out, the ingredients found in huge quantities, none of these left him much room to maneuver. He couldn't feign ignorance of a setup that large in his very own club, nor could he underplay the severity of the drug itself. Meth was a mean bitch. Just say no. But he hadn't, now he couldn't. He was going away for a long time, along with half of his bouncers.

The strippers had been in complete ignorance. Not a single female accomplice was found in the entire shakedown. Lisbon, who had brought Mark and the driver in, felt a strange sense of relief at this. She wasn't sure why. She knew women were capable of some seriously messed-up stuff, but when a case involved cruelty against women, she was always happier when men were the perpetrators. It felt like less of a betrayal.

Now, sitting in her office and working out the final aspects of the case with Cho, both of the agents felt a smug sense of satisfaction as the Royko enterprise went down like the Hindenburg with every piece of evidence they entered into the indictments. They were slow. They were thorough. They made damn sure everything was water tight. And they were the only two unit members in the office, so they had to work double time.

"Jane?" Cho asked, not even looking up from his paperwork.

Neither did Lisbon. "With Cherry."

Enough said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby wouldn't leave Grace once they arrived at the hospital. Not for a single second. The medics tried to separate them to treat their injuries, but Rigsby threatened to tear the place apart if they took her away from him. They looked over the bloodied woman and imposing man in front of them and made a judgment call.

Grace was given a private room while a nurse set three of Rigsby's fingers as he sat by her bedside. The doctor came in and smiled at her kindly.

"Miss Van Pelt? I'm doctor Addison. I'll be checking your injuries to make sure you haven't sustained a concussion."

"My baby first," Grace informed him insistently from her half-prone position. Rigsby looked the man in the eye as his free hand slipped to Grace's stomach, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Our baby first," he reiterated.

Dr. Addison's eyes raised up as he checked her chart in his hand. "You're pregnant? I apologize. Of course, I'll start there immediately. How far along are you?"

Rigsby turned to Grace at this, also wanting to know.

She tilted her chin and cleared her throat. "Since October 31st, doctor."

Rigsby's eyes went wide. She gave him an embarrassed smile. Yes, their first night together.

Dr. Addison nodded and scribbled it down. "So about a month. That's good. The fetus is in early development and was most likely insulated from any trauma." He flipped her chart closed. "Prop your legs up and I'll have a look."

Dr. Addison was very thorough, gently probing her belly and entrance before taking blood and urine samples. When he was done, he smiled with genuine reassurance.

"It's my preliminary opinion that your baby is fine, Grace. I don't see any evidence of injury or anything that might lead to a miscarriage. The tests need to come back, but you're a healthy woman and I can honestly say that I think you'll be okay. Now," he paused as he reached for her. "Will you allow me to inspect your head?"

Grace gave him a relieved smile and nodded, sitting up to give him access. As he gently prodded and asked her if she felt any pain, Rigsby stood up from his chair and sat next to her on the bed.

"A baby," he murmured softly as he turned into her and ran his fingers gently through her hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Keeping her head still, she shifted her gaze to him as best she could. "I wanted to. So badly." She bit her lips apologetically.

"Why didn't you?" His eyes were wide and filled with hurt. Grace felt her eyes tear up.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't want you to worry. You were already so worried. I was afraid," she paused and blinked. A tear fell. "I was afraid you'd tell me to quit the sting. We were so close. I wanted to prove myself. Prove I was strong."

He slid his arm around her waist. "How long have you known?"

She sniffed. "A few days."

He thought for a moment. "The bathroom at the Pussycat?"

She jerked her head up and down. "Uh-huh."

He was silent for a moment. Dr. Addison silently continued his examination. Rigsby leaned into her ear. "We're…we're going to keep it, right? You weren't going to…" He couldn't finish.

Shocked, Grace turned her head to stare at him. The doctor had to find his fingering again as he lost contact with her skull. Grace's eyes were a mixture of disbelief and budding anger. "You think I'd abort my baby—_our _baby—and not tell you?" Her voice was a whisper, yet it struck Rigsby like a scream.

He instantly lowered his head and tucked it against her shoulder. "Forgive me. I just…I'm just so messed up right now. You were gone. Maybe dead. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't stop-," he cut himself off.

Grace tipped his chin up. "Couldn't stop what?"

His expression was one of raw pain. "I couldn't stop screaming."

Grace's fingers moved from his chin and cupped his face. "Oh, baby," she whispered softly. "I'm so sorry." She leaned her forehead and against his. Their eyes fell shut as they touched noses.

Dr. Addison stepped back and gently cleared his throat. Neither patient moved. "Your head is fine, Grace. You'll have a nasty bump for a few days, but that's all. A nurse will be in soon to clean your cuts."

Grace didn't move her head from Rigsby's or even open her eyes. "Thank you, doctor."

He left the room and they were left alone.

Rigsby pulled an unsteady breath. "The only thing that saved me was SoSo and Lila. They sat with me and we talked about all of us living together as a big family. They told me things they thought I should know about you. They were so…" He pulled up a bit and looked her in the eye. "They were little pieces of you. Your blood runs through them. And Lila…for a minute, I imagined she was you." Another tear fell. His. "I imagined she was ours."

Grace smiled weakly. "Lie down with me."

He nodded. They stood up. Rigsby settled onto the half-raised bed, his long frame grazing each end. Grace crawled up and settled at his side, half on his chest, half on the mattress. Their arms instantly entangled and clasped tightly. Rigsby lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers softly. She sighed contentedly and returned his kiss. There was no panic or urgency to it like there had been on the highway. Those kisses had been born of desperation and insane relief. This kiss was the kind that came with the terrifying knowledge of what might have been. It was timid. Exhausted. Grateful.

Grace broke it gently. "The only thing that saved me in that truck was our baby," she confessed quietly. "It's a little piece of you. _Your _blood runs through it. And I didn't have to imagine that it's ours." She shifted, snuggling closer to his side. "I'm having my husband's child. Don't you ever doubt that I want to keep it."

Despite his teary eyes, Rigsby grinned happily. "Your husband?"

She lifted her head and looked at him. "The proposal's still on the table, isn't it? Or did you win nine Mega Millionaire lotteries in the few hours that I was gone?"

He chuckled with tired joy and hugged her tightly. "Fuck the lottery. Call the nurse and tell her to find a priest or a ship's captain or somebody who can marry us right now on this bed."

Grace snorted and dropped her head back to his chest, the weight of the night finally catching up to her. "I'm not getting married in a hospital gown on the same day that I came off my shift at a strip joint after stealing meth. What kind of story is that for our kid?"

"Kid_s_," he corrected sternly.

Grace yawned and felt her eyes slip closed. "Fine," she mumbled as she drifted off to sleep. "But you're having the next one."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After finally reaching the hospital and filling out Grace's insurance paperwork, Jane and Cherry were led to their room. The orderly pointed to the door and Cherry poked her head around and melted at the scene before her. She felt Jane pad up softly behind her and lean over her shorter frame to see for himself.

There on the hospital bed lay Rigsby and Grace, sound asleep. Rigsby was on his back, his arms locked securely around his woman. Grace was curled up on him, her chest pressed firmly into his, her leg anchored around his waist, her arms around his neck and chest. Even in sleep, they looked exhausted, but calm. Grace's cuts had been cleaned, her forehead sporting a tiny red line near her hairline. They looked…beautiful.

"That kid is gonna be a heartbreaker," Cherry murmured softly as she watched her sister and future brother-in-law, their unborn child nestled safely between them.

Jane reached for her hand. "Just like their aunt."

She snorted softly, her gaze never leaving them. "I told you before. Don't try your tired lines on me, sailor. I'm immune."

Jane chuckled. "I'm curious," he mused, pulling her chin and bringing her gaze to him. "Will you take up their challenge?"

Cherry arched her brow and gave him a bemused smirk. "Challenge?"

"Well," his expression went serious. "You can't let Van Pelt and Rigsby have a dazzlingly beautiful baby and not throw your own entry into the ring."

Her brow arched higher. "I already have two beautiful babies."

Jane pulled her flush against him. "Too old," he huffed softly as he ran his finger down her cheek. "Have another one."

Cherry's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat. He'd got her. He loved when he did that. Her eyes immediately calmed. "Gee," her eyes drifted upwards as she thought carefully. "You know, I would, but unfortunately that _particular_ dance takes two. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

A low voice. Lulling. Hypnotic. "What if you had a partner for that dance?"

Her eyes fluttered against her will. "Got anyone in mind?"

He rubbed her shoulders soothingly. "Someone with excellent genes."

"Uh-huh."

"Smart. Handsome. Pristine medical history."

"A winning combination."

"Guaranteed to give the soon-to-be Rigsbys a run for their money," he purred.

Cherry's eyes closed completely and she smiled. "Hmmmm. Nice. But see? The problem is that Cho is already dating Anna Angel."

Jane gripped her shoulders and swooped to her lips, grinning. "Spiteful girl!"

She grinned, eyes shut tight. "And Liev is gay."

"Hush, woman."

"Jackson's seeing someone."

"I said zip it."

"And Johnny's too high-strung."

"You're only digging yourself deeper, babe."

"Juarez might be game. I'll check with him."

Jane shook her gently. "You're just plain evil."

Cherry opened her eyes. They sparkled with pure mirth. "That's-,"

"—why I love you." Jane finished her sentence.

She held their gaze for a fraction of a second before nodding. "Exactly."

He was still gripping her by the arms, his face an inch away from hers. "Well? Is our kid gonna mop the floor with their kid or what?"

She pursed her lips, giving it some adorable thought. "I dunno. I have a burlesque house to run. You've got a racket swindling old ladies out of their life savings. We're obviously busy people. Seems like a lot to ask just to beat a Rigsby kid. And there's a chance they'll have a freckly, redheaded giant. We'll have had a spectacular baby for no reason."

Jane sighed. "Stubborn woman. I can see I'm going to need a lot of time to persuade you. Fine," he rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm moving in with you and following you around day and night until you agree."

Cherry's grin exploded in wattage and she clapped her hand on her mouth to keep her booming laugh in her chest. She glanced at the sleeping pair to make sure she hadn't disturbed them before pulling Jane down the hall and out the automatic doors. Once outside, she shrieked with delight, bending at the waist and laughing until tears streamed down her face.

"_Live with me_?! That's your ultra-smooth, ladies' man way of asking to move in with me? Oh, Patrick," she gasped as she grabbed him for support. "Pathetic."

He locked her in his arms and beamed wide. "Perfect logical. You're madly in love with me. Lila and SoSo adore me. You and I can't let the Rigsbys win. And unless you're moving in with _me _onto the CBI couch, it's the only course of action."

Cherry bit her lower lip and smiled earnestly, catching her breath. "I'm not madly in love with you."

He held her gaze and arched his brow, willing her to be honest. "Are so."

She gazed back, letting her arms slowly go slack in his grip. Her eyes dipped down shyly. Her head fell forward until it nestled into his neck. He could feel her smiling against his throat. He caught her chin and made her look at him. "Are. So."

Whiskey. Chocolate. Coffee. The colors flashed at him brightly. Two candy-colored lips bit each other nervously, then spoke. "Am so."


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39- The Final Curtain**

A week later found the entire CBI team decked out in their fanciest threads and sitting front row/center as the guests of honor at opening night for _Naughty, Never Nice_, the House of Ill Repute's Christmas extravaganza. Cho and Rigsby sat in their fancy tuxes while Grace and Lisbon wore sexy little black dresses. The entire audience was abuzz. This show was going to put all others to shame, they overhead people whispering. Cherry Delaney had really outdone herself.

Grace couldn't help turning in her seat to people watch. There were only about 300 people in the elegant crowd. The House never catered to more. It was clear to Grace that these people skyrocketed above her little team, both in society and pay grade. It made her sit up a little straighter in her seat. _They_ were sitting in the front row, after all. They weren't the California aristocracy, but as her father was always fond of pointing out, it ain't what you know, but who you know. For that reason, five lowly agents were the only VIPs in the joint.

Rigsby held her hand in her lap. She smiled gently at the familiar feeling of his warmth on her belly. He did that constantly now. Whenever he walked up behind her, or fell asleep next to her, or sat by her side, his hand slid protectively over her stomach. She kept teasing him about it, telling him that it was far too early to feel anything, but he smiled blithely and wouldn't budge. He'd even drop to his knees occasionally and press his ear to her navel, listening intently.

"He's the size of a pea, babe. What are you hoping to hear, exactly?" she whispered dramatically.

His hand shooed at her voice. "_She's_ the size of a pea. And my sweet pea and I are having a private conversation." He looked up at her with pure adoration and wrapped his arms around her thighs. "She's telling me more things I have to know about you before we get married."

Now, he leaned over and tapped her shoulder with his other hand. "Where's Jane? The show's starting in five minutes!"

Grace shrugged. "He said he had something to take care of first."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Three hours earlier…_

"More hustle, guys! I need the first number's props up on stage right now. Someone throw their hand up if they'll supervise the caterers…thanks Julia. Okay, I want everyone without a job to get their butts into wardrobe asap. Chop chop!"

Jane watched the blizzard of activity in the House theater as dancers ran around like headless chickens while Cherry issued orders from the stage. From the back of the room, Jane grinned at his girl. She was wearing baggy sweats. Her hair was in a ponytail. She was wearing reading glasses. Her nose was buried in a clipboard as she pointed and directed and checked things off with a pencil. SoSo and Lila had been given the very important job of checking under all of the theater seats to make sure there were no bullfrogs. Bullfrogs, Cherry told them with wide, serious eyes, would ribbit through the entire show and ruin the music. They simply couldn't afford to have bullfrogs anywhere near the stage. The little girls took their job very seriously, checking under every single chair and flicking their flashlights back and forth, looking for amphibian interlopers.

When they came close to the side door where Jane was standing, he squatted down low. "Psssssst…" he hissed at the quietly.

The girls looked up and he immediately pressed his finger to hip lips. They obeyed and stayed quiet, running up to him and hugging him tightly. He was surrounded by soft arms and sweet-smelling hair. He grinned and kissed each of their foreheads. Lila leaned into his ear. "Are you going to watch the show tonight?" she whispered loudly.

SoSo giggled, clapping her hands over her mouth as the sound bubbled out. "Mommy will be mad if you miss it," she spoke through her fingers.

He shook his head in mock horror. "I'd _never_ miss mommy's show. She'd kill me!"

They rippled with suppressed laughter.

"But you're magic," Lila shook her head. "You can put a spell on mommy. She'll never get mad at you if you cast a spell."

Jane pretended to give her suggestion some serious thought. "Maybe I will, Lila, but right now, I'm going to kidnap mommy and take her to my castle. You think she'll let me?"

They both nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay," he said. "I'm going to take her away now. By the way," he whispered as he stood up and began to walk away. "You missed those frogs." He pointed to the floor where he'd been squatting. Two origami frogs sitting on the ground suddenly leapt into the air and fell on their sides.

The girls shrieked with pleasure before capturing their prey and putting them into their pockets.

Jane skulked along the darkened perimeter until he was a few feet behind the lady in charge.

"Watch the line of sight there, Juarez. If I can see those ropes, then so can rows three through sev-ah!" Cherry gasped as she was grabbed from behind and whirled around. Her clipboard clattered to the floor and she struggled half-heartedly as Jane slapped his hand over her mouth, backing towards the exit with her in his arms.

"This is a robbery, folks. I'm stealing your boss. You don't mind, do you?"

Cherry stiffened and fought harder against him, clearly minding quite a bit. The troupe, however, hooted and cheered loudly.

"Take her! She's a slave driver!"

"We'll be fine. Anna Angel can bark orders just as well as she can, and in a sexier voice too!"

"Go on, Patrick. Just bring her back before the opening number."

Jane tightened his grip on her and pulled with more force, not giving an inch. "Much obliged, people."

He hustled her out of the House and towards his car, Cherry shrieking and whimpering behind his hand the whole way. He let her go to open the door and she instantly tried to break for the House again. Luckily, Jane saw it coming. He lunged and caught her around the waist, dragging her into his chest as she cried out and struggled.

"Oh, no you don't," he chuckled as she writhed against him. "You're coming with me."

"Patrick, I'm busy! Opening night! I have a million things to do!" she cried out in frustration as she pushed at his arms.

Jane chuckled harder, knowing that if she really wanted to, she could easily escape. Still, a game was a game. He pulled her even tighter to him and bit her ear gently, running his tongue over her lobe. She stilled instantly, moaning softly as he zeroed in on her weak spot.

"No fair," she whined softly.

"All's fair," he whispered hotly. "Now behave yourself and get in this car." He turned her in his arms, his expression turning serious. "I want to show you something."

She hesitated, feeling the slack in his embrace and gauging the distance between him and the door. He arched his brow. "Don't make me tie you up, Cherry."

Her eyes flared at this. He saw defiance and sexual interest snap in her gaze behind her glasses before they settled down. Gentle compliance filled her expression and posture. He smirked with haughty authority. "Car. Now."

She smiled. "Hour. Tops."

He shoved her in gently and they took off down West Washington Avenue.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later, Cherry murmured in surprise as they pulled into an elegant driveway that led them to a stunning mansion. Huge bay windows graced every side. Beautiful wood beams arced beautifully above the front door. It was three stories, with a massive patio that she spotted that led out onto an immaculate garden.

Five million. Easy.

Cherry turned to Jane as he put the car in park. "What's this place? Are we visiting someone?"

He smiled gently, taking her hand and kissing it lightly. "Come see."

She followed him with the stately staircase and stood in amused confusion as he pulled a solitary key from his pocket and opened the door. He gestured inside. "Please."

She walked into the foyer, which immediately led into a brilliantly bright and lovely living room. Never one to cower in the corner, she walked directly into the center and pivoted slowly, taking in the rich furnishings.

Jane watched her quietly from the entryway. "Do you know where you are now?" he asked.

She didn't look at him, merely continued to gaze. "No one lives here," she mused out loud. "They haven't for a long time. It's cold." She paused and finally looked at him. "You have a key, but not on your keychain. This place is kept separate from the rest of your life. It's special." She paused again. "Or malignant."

He nodded quietly.

She gave him a small, supportive smile. Her eyes stayed wide. Always. "This is where they were killed. In your very own home. It was broken into and your family was taken from you."

He nodded again. "That's correct."

Cherry pulled a soft, steadying breath. "Sweet Jesus."

"He didn't lift a finger."

His tone filled her with sadness. Still not sure why he'd brought her, she walked over to an overstuffed armchair and sat down, her hands in her lap. She leveled a calm gaze at him, waiting patiently.

Jane shuffled slowly into the room and sat on the sofa opposite her. His eyes were a million miles away as he stared at the coffee table in front of him.

"I'm selling this place."

She remained silent, watching him.

"This house became a tomb that night. And since then…I've haunted it."

He looked up at her, gauging her reaction. She still said nothing. Her wide eyes accepting him, her ears absorbing every word. She didn't look away in embarrassment for him. She didn't give him the god-awful squint of pity. She listened. She understood.

"What do you think?"

She merely blinked. "I think it's time you moved off the CBI couch and come stay with me." No hesitation. No teasing. Honest opinion.

He chortled softly. "You want a shiftless, wily hobo living in your house?"

She snorted. "A millionaire hobo. Only in California. And as a matter of clarification, I don't want you living in my house. I want you living with me. With us."

"The girls?" Jane smiled.

"Weeeeeell," Cherry winced with embarrassment. "The girls, plus two."

"Two?"

"I kinda told Gray and Wayne they could live with me until they get out of their rent agreements and save up enough money to get a place of their own. They'll need every cent with a baby on the way."

"You've got to be kidding. You want all of us living at the House?" Jane's eyes brightened for the first time since stepping through the door.

"It's not like I'm cramped for space. And all of you guys work during the day, so I can run the troupe without interruption. And the whole place is soundproofed. No one will hear anything they don't want to."

"Oh, my God." Jane chuckled heartily.

"Fine," Cherry huffed. "Tie a hankie on a stick and live like a bum. Just don't come crawling back when the charms of street life wear thin."

Jane stood up and launched himself at her armchair, pinning his hands to the armrests and trapping her. "Oh, babe," he was still laughing. "I love you."

She looked up into his baby blue eyes and her banter melted away. "I can't believe how much I love you," she answered softly.

He grunted in approval and stood up, holding his hand out to her. "I believe I was given one hour, m'lady."

She took his hand and jumped up. "Indeed you were. Let's get outta here and get back to the House before my troupe walks out on me."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Showtime…_

Jane made it to his seat just as the theater lights darkened and the audience shushed.

"You're late," Grace hissed.

"Balderdash," Jane waved his hand dismissively.

The curtain lifted. Music filled the room. A collective gasp filled the room as the stage was revealed.

Cherry. A Santa Hat. Black high heel boots. Red panties. Nothing else.

Lounging in a giant martini glass, her boots bouncing lightly to the beat. She turned to the audience, winked, and began to sing. She couldn't have chosen a better song.

"_Santa, baby…"_


	40. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"You're doing so good, baby. Push! C'mon, push!"

"Shut. Up. Wayne!" Grace hissed and panted as another contraction struck her blind with pain. She screamed and went rigid on the hospital bed. Sweat poured off her forehead and drenched her hair. Her legs were propped up in front of her as the doctor massaged her belly and talked to her softly.

"You're crowning, Grace. You're almost there. I just need one or two more pushes, okay? You're looking very good."

Grace sobbed loudly and screwed her eyes shut. Her wedding ring bit painfully into her fingers as she gripped Rigsby's hand and squeezed hard. She steeled herself against the agony that was coming and pushed with all of her might. Stars exploded in her vision. She felt so hot that she almost passed out. Suddenly she felt a cool cloth wipe her face. Wayne. She heard him murmuring to her, a thousand miles away across an ocean of pain. She moaned, turning her face towards him and crying brokenly.

"It hurts," she whimpered.

"I know" he whispered, leaning down and kissing her quickly before rubbing ice across her lips. It felt wonderfully cool and she licked the moisture away greedily. She opened her eyes and found him staring down at her anxiously. If she'd been able to think passed the pain, she would have known how hard it was for him to stand aside and let her take it alone.

"You're so brave, Gray. Just a little more. You can do it." He swiped the ice across her lips again. "Remember, you owe me a hundred bucks if it's a girl."

She choked on surprised, annoyed laughter. "God, I hate you. This is all your fault."

The doctor broke in. "Grace, I need you with me now. Just one more push. One more, and it's all over. Come on now, push!"

Grace gritted her teeth and pushed. She felt like her body was tearing in half and she screamed as her baby finally slipped gently into the doctor's waiting hands. Suddenly the agonizing pressure almost disappeared completely. She scream gave way to a series of hiccupping sobs as the nurses took the child and began to clear the mouth and nasal passages.

There was an endless second of silence, save for Grace's panting, before a shrill cry filled the air. Grace dropped back on the bed, nearly fainting with exhaustion and joy. Rigsby swooped down and nuzzled his face against her cheek. "Gray," he sighed happily. "Good job, baby. You did so good!"

She laughed tiredly between her pants and tried to sit up to see their child. She instantly met with a nurse telling her to stay down. She needed rest and the afterbirth had yet to emerge. As the OB team cleaned their squalling little one, Rigsby called to the doc.

"So did I win? Do I have a gorgeous redheaded daughter?"

The doc looked up kindly, sponge in hand. "Nope. Sorry."

Grace smirked slightly. "Did I win? Do _I _have a dark haired baby boy?"

More kind smiling. "Not quite. Closer though."

He wrapped a blanket around the tiny form and brought it to Grace's chest. Both Grace and Wayne gazed in amazement at their beautiful child and laughed. A little boy with a wet tangle of angelic blonde hair filled Grace's arms. His enormous blue eyes gazed up in squinty confusion at the bright lights and bizarre surroundings.

"Blonde? Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Rigsby's laugh filled the entire room.

"Ugh," Grace moaned happy annoyance. "I'm going to get Cherry for this."

Rigsby leaned down and wrapped his arms around the both of them. "A boy," he murmured in her ear, smiling happily. "We have a little boy." He wiped her sweaty hair away from her forehead and kissed it lovingly. "I love you both so much I can't stand it."

Grace hummed contentedly and closed her eyes. "We love you back. You'll never know how much."

He smiled. He reached out hesitantly and traced his finger across the baby's cheek. "Amazing," he whispered. "What are we going to name him?"

Grace watched his finger caress their son and felt a tear slip down her cheek. She already knew. She'd always known. The moment she'd heard the name.

"Christopher."


	41. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

Hey everyone. I'd like to thank you so much for reading my story—the biggest story on the Mentalist listing so far. By far. We've come a long way from just a few chapters of Halloween costumes and calorific smut. I loved writing it and I hope you enjoyed cruising it with me. I'd especially like to thank Sesamina, celticgina, Chase, and countless others for their awesome support. Your reviews and PMs made my days, seriously.

A few things. First, since I began writing this ages ago, a few nuggets have popped up in the show that go against my plot. We've learned that Jane's dad was a carnie hustler, not a preacher. We've also recently learned that Grace may or may not have a sister who killed herself. Either way, she doesn't have a sister. Bummer.

The songs I used are the following:

_Wikked Lil' Grrrls_ by Esthero: I heartily recommend you hear it. Every girl should have it on her iPod. It's great for when you're feeling naughty.

_Sympathy for the Devil_ by the Rolling Stones: I couldn't think of a better song for two people like Jane and Cherry battling each other.

_Santa, Baby_ by Eartha Kit: My favorite Christmas song. Again, great for naughty girls.

Thanks again, folks!


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